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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148892">Of A Feather</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalia_muse_of_comedy/pseuds/thalia_muse_of_comedy'>thalia_muse_of_comedy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beach Episode, M/M, Pining, Second Chances, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:46:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>90,562</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalia_muse_of_comedy/pseuds/thalia_muse_of_comedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Akaashi began, “I guess we’re summering in Kansai.”<br/>“It’s going to be so hot,” Kenma whined.<br/>Might be time to cut your hair.” Akaashi was the only person in the band that could make a joke like that and live.<br/>“Cheers to selling out clubs!” Bokuto lifted his drink high above his head.<br/>“Cheers to Kenma never booking us anything and leaving it all to Kuroo,” Kuroo lifted his own glass.<br/>Akaashi, with his tea held a little above his eye line, said, “Here’s to brainstorming some new songs, right, Shouyou?”<br/>-------<br/>When Hinata Shouyou’s band takes the chance to tour the Osaka club scene, he reunites with his old high school friend, Kageyama Tobio. The secrets surrounding the end of their friendship and parting weigh heavy on Hinata, but Kageyama seems willing to try again. As the summer continues, Hinata has to juggle the band, his goals, and his heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Kagehina Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hands Over My Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't even know where to begin, so I'll start with the thank you's. Thank you to Ellie and Aspen for reading so much of this to give me the confidence to keep going as the word count started climbing ever higher! Thank you to <a href="kingstrawberrymilk.tumblr.com">Tai</a> for being my artist partner for this event (his first piece will be in chapter 2). Thank you to Annamiya and the rest of the mods for working hard to make this event happen. I'm so thankful for the kagehina bb discord. </p>
<p>This fic is the longest thing I have ever written, and it is a love letter to Osaka, music, and performing. I hope you enjoy their journey. Please kudos, comment, and subscribe if you enjoy the fic. There will be weekly updates until the fic is finished. </p>
<p>I have a playlist for the songs that I think most closely resemble <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1gBVMK6bop3WfbNRQXIAVG?si=z-yaevTWRYm_4dSv8T9ebA">Of A Feather's</a> sound.<br/>This chapter's title comes from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/5YJZgqCK7sgr07YZJOnfTY?si=vGO6UlPjT3691puLIcx4Ug">Fixin' by Walk the Moon</a><br/>Bug me on <a href="https://twitter.com/pinchserve12">twitter</a> and <a href="https://pinchserveprince.tumblr.com">pinchserveprince</a> on Tumblr.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shouyou slid back into his seat at the table with his band mates. The January wind was surely ripping through the streets above this basement establishment. It was a slow Tuesday evening at the Izakaya he worked. Tonight, though, he was a patron. His cheeks were already warm and his thoughts were taking long walks inside of his head. </p><p>He had excused himself to the restroom to sober up a little before Oikawa arrived and Kuroo would begin the meeting in earnest. They had laughed at him, his coworkers and boss included, for being such a lightweight. </p><p>He took a sip of the water someone had ordered for him, probably Kenma. The coolness felt good inside of his throat, and he held the glass against his forehead for a moment.</p><p>“Shouyou,” Bokuto sang, “we need to get your alcohol tolerance up!” He slung a hot arm around Shouyou. The yank made him slosh some of his water on the both of them.</p><p>On the other side of Bokuto, Akaashi shook his head at his boyfriend. </p><p>“Having a high alcohol tolerance doesn’t indicate anything, except maybe a pickled brain,” Kuroo teased. He had an arm around Kenma, who was leaning into Kuroo while swiping through his phone. Probably looking at the band’s Twitter notifications. Once upon a time, that had been Kuroo’s responsibility, but he didn’t seem able to tune into the style and standards of the platform. Now, Kenma handled it, if only to spite Kuroo.</p><p>“Oikawa sure is late,” Kenma remarked, eyes never leaving his phone. </p><p>Shouyou checked his watch, and yes, Oikawa was about 20 minutes later than he said he would be.</p><p>“I won’t start worrying until Iwaizumi starts blowing up our phones,” Shouyou offered. He took another sip of his water. </p><p>“By then, it would be too late. Oikawa would have to be in a ditch somewhere,” Akaashi said. He signaled to their server, Shouyou’s friend Inuoka.</p><p>He walked over and spotted Shouyou. “Your face nearly matches your hair, Shouyou!” </p><p>Bokuto gave a hearty laugh and responded, “Right?!”</p><p>“I think if we order a gin and tonic,” Akaashi figured, “Oikawa will appear when it hits the table.” Inuoka gave a fake salute and went to fetch the drink.</p><p>“Ah, it’s his summoning item,” Kenma grinned, finally putting his phone down. </p><p>He looked at the state of Shouyou and said, “Well, as soon as he gets here, we need to take a group picture before the rest of you get sloppy.”</p><p>“I’m not sloppy,” Shouyou insisted. Since he started drinking the water, he felt like he had sobered up quite a bit, thank you very much. </p><p>“No,” Kuroo agreed, “but you are sitting next to Bokuto, so you will be before long.” </p><p>“Kuroo, I don’t understand why we need to wait for Oikawa before we start the meeting,” Akaashi said. As usual, he didn’t have any alcohol in front of him. Instead, he had his hands around a cup of mint tea. The lead singer of their band, Of A Feather, preferred to be their handler. In addition, the tea kept his throat in good condition. </p><p>“It’s important news,” Kuroo replied with a shrug. Kenma didn’t like that he had been jostled so he sat up.</p><p>“Kenma, you have to know what this is about,” Shouyou said. He gave Kenma the best puppy eyes he could manage. He knew Kenma had a hard time saying no to him.</p><p>“Oi,” Kuroo warned, “stop trying to seduce Kenma.”</p><p>“No one at this table could romance me,” Kenma said, picking his phone back up.</p><p>Inuoka placed Oikawa’s gin and tonic at the empty seat next to Shouyou.</p><p>“Shouyou couldn’t seduce anyone if he tried,” Inuoka said with a laugh.</p><p>Shouyou felt his ears growing hot. Yeah, okay, out of everyone at the table, maybe he did have the least amount of romantic experience. No need for anyone to rub it in his face that his only attempt at romance in life had left him awkward and alone at the end of high school. Whatever, that was already years ago.</p><p>“Shouyou is trying to seduce someone? I’ve missed too much, it seems.”</p><p>“Oikawa!”</p><p>“What took you so long? We were about to hire a new keyboardist,” Bokuto teased.</p><p>Oikawa peeled off his sharp jacket and took his place next to Shouyou. Wordlessly, Kenma pointed at Oikawa’s gin and tonic at the table.</p><p>“I thought I felt a disturbance in the force.” Oikawa took a big drink of the beverage before taking out his handkerchief and dabbing at his forehead.</p><p>“Did you run here after you felt this ‘disturbance?’”</p><p>“Indeed I did, Shouyou. Plus, the train was delayed.”</p><p>Kuroo scoffed at Oikawa’s lie, “You were probably sucking Iwaizumi’s face for so long you missed your train.”</p><p>Akaashi and Kenma made twin disgusted noises. Bokuto gave a hearty laugh and high-fived Kuroo across the table.</p><p>“You’re just jealous that you’re not getting any, Kuroo-chan,” Oikawa bit back. </p><p>Shouyou and Bokuto both went “ooooooo” from the burn.</p><p>“Fine, make fun of your fearless leader. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you all the news,” Kuroo threatened, crossing his arms.</p><p>Oikawa lifted his gin and tonic and cheered, “to our fearless leader, king of wasting our time.”</p><p>Everyone except Kuroo held their glasses aloft and drank to Kuroo’s health. Kuroo hunkered down, pouting about no one ever taking his side. </p><p>“Sorry, Kuroo, we promise to listen very closely,” Shouyou apologized, bowing his head. Beside him, Bokuto squawked as Akaashi forced his head into a bow. </p><p>Kenma stuck an elbow into Kuroo’s side, telling him to sit up straighter. </p><p>“Rich coming from you,” Kuroo shot back. He straightened his postured and opened his arms wide. </p><p>“As you all know, we started this band with the intent of eventually going full time. We’ve got a lock on the Tohoku area that we call home. I want to thank everyone here, even eavesdropping Izakaya owners who let Shouyou spend his Saturday evenings drumming his little heart out.” </p><p>A chuckle came from behind the screen shared with the walkway behind their table. The band lifted their glasses in a small cheer to him.</p><p>“We’ve been looking for a chance to branch out even further. As you know, our attempts to break into the Tokyo scene have yet to be successful,” Kuroo continued.</p><p>Shouyou leaned over the table toward Kuroo, “I still think if we would just ask Ushijima-“</p><p>Oikawa knocked back the rest of his gin and tonic and said, “Fuck no.”</p><p>“For reasons called ‘Oikawa Boned Our Biggest Chance To Tour With Ushijima,’ we will need to find another way into that circuit,” Akaashi explained, even though everyone at the table knew about the strange whirlwind friends (kind of) with benefits that ended pretty ugly.</p><p>Oikawa threw his hands over his face, “How was I supposed to know he was trying to poach me for his own band?”</p><p>“You thought he was interested in just your pretty face,” Kenma asked, sounding genuine.</p><p>“Well I think he also liked-“</p><p>Bokuto’s hands went over Shouyou’s ears as if he were still a child. Being the youngest in a group will do that to a person, Shouyou supposed. </p><p>“Okay Oikawa, let’s pretend this is a family establishment,” Kuroo said as Inuoka was bringing Oikawa another gin and tonic and some plum wine for Shouyou.</p><p>“Anyways,” Kuroo brought the group back, “as you all may or may not know, my aunt owns a house in Osaka. This summer, starting in June, she’s going up to Hokkaido with her husband to visit his family.”</p><p>“For how long?”</p><p>“They’ll be back August 31st,” Kuroo answered.</p><p>“What’s that got to do with us,” Shouyou asked, not yet understanding.</p><p>“I propose, with Kenma already agreeing with me, that we sublease her house while they’re gone and play every venue in Osaka, Kyoto, and Kobe until they’re sick of us.”</p><p>Shouyou and Bokuto clicked their drinks together in celebration. Akaashi held his tea aloft in agreement. Oikawa was the only one who didn’t outwardly celebrate the news.</p><p>“The whole summer? In Kansai? That seems like a lot,” Oikawa said into his drink. The rest of the band turned to look at him. </p><p>“I suppose he’s right,” Akaashi admitted, “I’m also concerned about how we can afford that.”</p><p>“We have enough funds to rent a couple cars to get us down there,” Kenma explained, “And if we start saving now, I’m sure we could collectively come up with food and transportation costs.”</p><p>It had been a long time since Shouyou had been anywhere outside of the region. The idea felt shiny and exciting.</p><p>“I think we should do it! If we don’t take a chance like this, how long until the corporate world claims us all,” he asked his band mates. Kenma’s mouth turned sour at the idea of doing anything except streaming video games and managing the band. </p><p>“You’re right, Shouyou. There’s no way I’m going to be anything besides Akaashi’s trophy husband,” Bokuto said, puffing out his chest.</p><p>“Until we can afford to actually pay someone more then a few yen to be our sound and lighting guy, you won’t be anyone’s trophy husband,” Kenma chided him.</p><p>Oikawa threw his head on the table, “Corporate hell already ate my Hajime! How am I gonna live through three months without seeing him!”</p><p>Shouyou patted Oikawa’s shoulder and slid the gin and tonic just a little out of harm’s way.</p><p>“It’s just me that has a driver’s license, so we probably need Iwaizumi to help us make the drive down. We can’t fit all the equipment into one van,” Kuroo explained.</p><p>“Sorry.” Shouyou knew it was his drum set that was the biggest space eater.</p><p>“Nonsense,” Akaashi told him, waving a hand. He flashed Shouyou a small smile, “What would the rhythm section be without our star drummer?”</p><p>Shouyou smiled back at Akaashi, happy to be here, He wouldn’t want to chase his dreams alongside any other band mates. </p><p>“Guess I better tell the old man I’ll be back in September,” Shouyou said, standing up. His head felt like it was floating away into space without the rest of his body. He swayed to the left, and Bokuto caught him.</p><p>“Maybe you should drink some more water and talk to him about it tomorrow,” Kuroo suggested.</p><p>“You guys can’t make me do this,” Oikawa whined, “Hajime and I only started dating.”</p><p>Akaashi ordered water for Oikawa. “You could have been dating much sooner if you weren’t so dense,” Akaashi said, matter of fact.</p><p>“Bokuto, tell Akaashi to stop being mean to me.”</p><p>“Can’t, sorry,” Bokuto said, frowning at Oikawa, “it’s in my contract.”</p><p>“You can check if you like,” Kenma said. He was the one that handled the meager pay Bokuto received for his work in the band. </p><p>“No, I believe you wrote in something that ridiculous,” Oikawa acquiesced. He finally lifted his head off the table to look at Kuroo. “If you’ve crunched the numbers, I trust you. But I will complain,” he warned, “I will complain so much.”</p><p>“You do that anyway,” Kuroo replied. </p><p>Shouyou felt a buzz of excitement under his skin. His mother would worry; his sister would whine worse than Oikawa. Still, he could see the crowds they could draw. He could feel the lights of the stage calling to him as he sat in this Izakaya, hundreds of kilometers away. He would follow that call anywhere. </p><p>“So,” Akaashi began, “I guess we’re summering in Kansai.”</p><p>“It’s going to be so hot,” Kenma whined.</p><p>Might be time to cut your hair.” Akaashi was the only person in the band that could make a joke like that and live.</p><p>“Cheers to selling out clubs!” Bokuto lifted his drink high above his head.</p><p>“Cheers to Kenma never booking us anything and leaving it all to Kuroo,” Kuroo lifted his own glass.</p><p>Akaashi, with his tea held a little above his eye line, said, “Here’s to brainstorming some new songs, right, Shouyou?”</p><p>Shouyou felt the corners of his mouth pull too tight, hiis happiness bursting at the seams.</p><p>“Here’s to dreams coming true!”</p><p>Oikawa laughed, “maybe not yet, but I think we just might make it.”</p><p>“Yeah, cheers and all that. Hold that pose everyone,” Kenma commanded. He stretched his phone as far away from him as he could manage. Kuroo stuck his head on Kenma's shoulder. </p><p>Bokuto threw his free arm around Shouyou again, and Oikawa leaned all of his weight on Shouyou. Bokuto held their weight well. Akaashi slipped his glasses off before Kenma took several, quick photos. </p><p>“Alright, at least one of these has to be usable,” Kenma said as he settled back into Kuroo’s side.</p><p>Everyone else took a sip of their drinks. Shouyou’s plum wine tasted delicious. The warmth it brought to his cheeks made him crave summer. </p><p>Shouyou had been writing songs for the band ever since they formed the year after he had graduated from high school. Like Akaashi said, his drumming made him a pillar for the band, but he craved to be the one in the spotlight. Singing his own songs on stage was a dream he kept curled tight inside of himself. Though he kept his aspiration to himself, he hoped that this would be the year the band gave him the chance he needed to make them see he had the potential.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of January and all of February passed by them with little fanfare. Shouyou’s boss took the news of his impending departure well, seeing as he had eavesdropped on the whole band meeting. Inuoka was the most sad that he was leaving and he lamented it every time they had a shift together. </p><p>“I just think,” Inuoka said during a shift in early March “that you guys could use another guitarist to get those sick harmonies going.” They were wiping down tables in anticipation of opening for the evening, the izakaya empty except for them. </p><p>“That’s not what I’m disagreeing with you about,” Shouyou reiterated for the hundredth time, “you’ve been arguing that you need to join the band.” He finished his tabe and watched Inuoka put his full body weight into scrubbing the table a few feet away from him.</p><p>“I think I’m cool enough for your band,” Inuoka whined.</p><p>Shouyou walked toward him, twisting his towel up tight. </p><p>Oblivious, Inuoka continued, “I’ve got the coolness factor down! I’d look awesome up there next to Kuroo, don’t-ARGH!”</p><p>Shouyou had unleashed the towel with a perfectly aimed shot to Inuoka’s behind.</p><p>“You backstabbing son of a bitch!”</p><p>“At this point, it was the only way to pull you out of your fantasies,” Shouyou explained while Inuoka made to chase him.</p><p>“You don’t even know how to play any instruments,” Shouyou yelled after Inuoka kicked him soundly on the butt.</p><p>“Someday I might!”</p><p>“Then you better start working on it instead of taking it out on me.”</p><p>Both young men began to laugh, knowing that Inuoka would never actually take the time to do anything other than work and finish his graduate degree.</p><p>The tables done, they went about refilling condiments and chopstick containers in the few minutes before the doors were unlocked. The silence was only interrupted by the kitchen staff and their curses. Shouyou stayed out of their way whenever possible. Though, getting on their good side did mean eating the occasional “extra” portions of karaage.</p><p>“Do you have any of your gigs booked yet,” Inuoka asked, fighting with the lid of a soy sauce bottle.</p><p>“Yeah, we’re opening up for a local band called Fox Glove.”</p><p>“They on any streaming platforms?”</p><p>“You should look them up, they have a couple singles out.” Shouyou took his phone out of his pocket and sent the band’s link to Inuoka. </p><p>Kuroo’s high school pal, Yaku, had chosen to go to university in Osaka. After graduation, he had chosen to stay out there. And though that made Kuroo a little touchy, it did mean another connection in the area. He had been the one to point Kuroo in Fox Glove’s direction after seeing them play at a club in the city.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>After his shift, Shouyou’s arms felt like noodles, and the smell of smoke clung to his clothes. It had been a raucous Friday evening, with business men hollering and spilling more than they were drinking. </p><p>Instead of returning home, Shouyou had made plans to catch a couple of hours of sleep at Kenma’s apartment before grabbing breakfast with the band. He knew Kuroo’s place would be cleaner, but the trains were already done for the night by the time Shouyou had felt comfortable leaving the Izakaya.</p><p>Shouyou could feel spring attempting to push through the dull of winter. He knew he would miss it when it was gone, the long nights and the bite of the wind. Yet, another part of him also knew that good things were ahead of him. If winter put him in a peaceful mood, then spring was the time when his body became alive and so did his pen. </p><p>“<em> Your soft call, your soft voice </em>,” he sang under his breath. It was a snippet of a slower song he had been working on with Akaashi. In it, he held on to the feeling of watching the way Akaashi and Bokuto moved around each other. Shouyou had zero experience in love, but he had learned a lot about it from watching those two.</p><p>The pair had been dating since Akaashi had asked for the second button of Bokuto’s gakuran on the day he graduated high school. Not completely understanding, Bokuto had ripped it off with a puzzled look. Akaashi’s face had been a bright red when Konoha had wrapped his arms around the both of them and told them to be happy.</p><p> After he absconded to parts unknown, Bokuto had turned to Akaashi and asked, “wait, are you asking me out?”</p><p>Akaashi had not expected Bokuto to reciprocate his feelings when he had asked for the momento, but he still kept it.</p><p>As he climbed the stairs to Kenma’s unit, Shouyou thought about his own high school memento that sat in his room at home. His mother had offered to hang it up many times, but Shouyou didn’t let her. He also didn’t let her throw it away. Shouyou had awkward feelings about the portrait for many reasons, the fact that it was a painting of him was the smallest issue. So, it stayed wrapped up tight, hidden behind his massive record collection.</p><p>Shouyou checked the door while fishing the key out of his pocket. It was unlocked, despite the hour. </p><p>“You know,” Shouyou said once he took his shoes off, “you should probably be asleep.” No answer came, but the light from the television told him Kenma was definitely awake. Shouyou came fully into the living room and sat down next to Kenma.</p><p>“You streaming right now?”</p><p>“Yeah, but I don’t have any audio output right now except for the game,” Kenma replied. </p><p>“You still doing your otome series,” Shouyou asked. He slipped under Kenma’s kotatsu. The nights were getting warmer but Kenma couldn’t be bothered to put the kotatsu away until Kuroo shamed him. </p><p>“Yeah, it’s been popular. We just finished throwing back to Hatoful Boyfriend last week.”</p><p>Shouyou gave a noise of interest, but in truth he knew nothing about otome games. Instead, he was finding the warmth of the kotatsu peaceful. He felt himself drifting off until Kenma dug an elbow into his side.</p><p>“Nu uh,” Kenma warned, “you smell terrible. Go take a shower at least.” He pointed to the bathroom even though Shouyou knew where it was. Shouyou figured he should be a good guest and do what he was told.</p><p>In the bathroom, Shouyou examined his chest as the mirror began to fog up. The smattering of freckles along his shoulders were less prominent in the winter months, yet definitely still there. He traced a finger around the small scar under his left  collarbone. He had broken it jumping out of Kageyama’s bedroom one night in their first year of high school. Now, it was silly to think about how strict Kageyama’s parents had been. At the time, however, Kageyama was worried about being caught having a friend over.</p><p>Sometimes, Shouyou would uncover the portrait sitting covered in his room and compare the color of his scar to the one on the canvas. Painted Shouyou’s scar never faded, but his own surely had in the years since Kageyama and he last spoke.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>The next morning, Kuroo pulled Shouyou and Kenma from under the kotatsu, yelling about flowers and spring and “putting that damn thing away already.”</p><p>Kenma fought back saying it was eight o’clock in the morning and the weather was barely above 5 degrees outside. “I deserve my vices,” he argued. At least, Shouyou thought that’s what he was saying around his toothbrush.</p><p>Once they were ready to go, Kuroo locking the apartment behind them, they began their journey to the family restaurant where they regularly grabbed breakfast. With the varying schedules of each band member, it was hard to find a good time to all meet together. Shouyou, being the youngest, got the short end of the stick every Saturday, but he could usually get a nap in before their rehearsals. So, he never really complained.</p><p>Oikawa and Iwaizumi sat next to each other in the booth, waiting for the rest of the band to trickle into the restaurant. Iwaizumi was the picture of neatness in his sharp, navy suit. Beside him, Oikawa was in an old orange sweater, his hair a disaster. </p><p>“Congrats on beating the ever punctual,” Iwaizumi said as a way of greeting. </p><p>“It’s ‘cause Kuroo likes torturing me,” Kenma supplied.</p><p>As Shouyou took his seat at the far side of the booth, he noticed that Oikawa’s eyes were bloodshot.</p><p>“Are you okay,” he asked before he really thought about it.</p><p>Oikawa merely groaned and put his face in his hands.</p><p>“Last night, he invited himself to my office’s drinking party,” Iwaizumi explained.</p><p>“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me skip this god awful breakfast, Hajime,” Oikawa complained, digging the heels of his hands deeper into his eyes.</p><p>“You invited yourself to my work, I’m returning the favor.”</p><p>“You’re always welcome to hang out with us,” Kuroo told him. “It doesn’t matter what the baby says.”</p><p>Shouyou popped back into the conversation, “hey, I thought I was the baby!”</p><p>“You never really seemed keen on the title,” Kuroo reasoned.</p><p>“You guys can discuss the finer points of what being the baby of the group means,” Kenma said,” but I’m going to order a coffee before the real headache arrives.” He leaned over Shouyou to hit the buzzer for the waitstaff. </p><p>Not too long after they ordered their first round of morning beverages, Akaashi and Bokuto came crashing into the restaurant. Akaashi’s mouth was pinched, the only indication of his annoyance. He had a large shopping back on the same arm as his satchel. Bokuto’s tall hair was immaculate, maybe a hint to why they were so late. He slid into the booth next to Kuroo, and Akaashi took the last remaining spot beside Oikawa.</p><p>“Sorry we’re late Bokuto-”</p><p>“Decided at the last second that he wanted to do his hair,” the rest of the table finished for Akaashi. A light dust of pink settled under his thick glasses, and he nodded.</p><p>“Don’t worry bro,” Kuroo said while nudging Bokuto. “It looks great.”</p><p>Akaashi huffed from his side of the table, “he’s only going to ruin it when he has to run lights for the theater’s matinee.”</p><p>“I’m still surprised they hired him,” Iwaizumi said before drinking some of Oikawa’s iced coffee.</p><p>Oikawa smacked his hand once his coffee was safely back on the table. “Hand’s off Hajime!”</p><p>“Touchy.”</p><p>Kuroo clapped his hands before Iwaizumi and Oikawa decided to duke it out over coffee, “Let’s order some food and then we can start the meeting, okay?”</p><p>Shouyou’s stomach growled. Eggs sounded so good to him.</p><p>“Yessir,” Bokuto replied with his usual gusto. </p><p>“That’s my boy.”</p><p>Bokuto titled his head, puzzled, and asked, “aren’t I Akaashi’s boy?”</p><p>“You have to know that’s a figure of speech,” Oikawa said.</p><p>“Shh, he is all mine,” Akaashi said behind the menu. </p><p>Oikawa ripped the menu away from Akaashi. “Stop it! I know for a fact you could never say that with a straight face.”</p><p>“I guess if you’re going to pick on me, I’m not obligated to give the-”</p><p>“The sweater your mother made for me? No, you have to hand it over!”</p><p>To illustrate his point Oikawa held out his hands and bowed his head. Akaashi rolled his eyes but slid Oikawa the big shopping bag. Shouyou and everyone watched as Oikawa kept looking back and forth between Akaashi and the bag.</p><p>“Yes, you can open it, it’s not like she’s here to be embarrassed about it,” Akaashi pointed out. </p><p>In a flurry, Oikawa opened the bag and threw the tissue paper behind him at Iwaizumi. Shouyou caught some to keep it from covering the table. </p><p>Oikawa held up the teal knit sweater proudly above his head. “It’s beautiful,” he announced. “I’ll have to send her a card. This is just so perfect. I wish I could put it on now.”</p><p>“You’d get syrup all over it,” Iwaizumi agreed, sliding Oikawa’s iced coffee away from Oikawa’s clumsy elbows. </p><p>Shouyou’s stomach rumbled again so he decided to take matters into his own hands and rang the buzzer to his right.</p><p>“Shouyou, you little shit, I have no idea what I’m going to eat yet,” Oikawa said, stuffing the sweater back into the bag.</p><p>Kuroo nodded solemnly. “Your baby rights have been rescinded,” he said to Shouyou, giving him a wink.</p><p>“Oh no,” Shouyou said clutching his stomach, “whatever shall I do.”</p><p>“Order some eggs,” Kenma offered.</p><p>“Yeah,” Shouyou agreed, “that exactly.”</p><p> </p><p>Soon, the table was overcrowded with plates and plates of breakfast. Iwaizumi had ordered so many side dishes, Shouyou was sure his own eggs were going to be on his lap before he could finish eating. </p><p>Around every bite of food, Kuroo updated the band on their summer plans. He stole a piece of toast off of Kenma’s plate saying, “We have six shows set up with Fox Glove. We’ll open for them at Kitaichi and Wonderland in Osaka in June; we’ll be meeting them in Kobe in early July. We’ve also agreed to open for them in Kyoto at the beginning of August. We’re still working out if we should split the transportation costs for the Kyoto shows, so I guess we’ll see.”</p><p>Kenma slammed one of Kuroo’s pancakes onto his plate without acknowledging that their leader spoke. </p><p>“That’s not a fair trade,” Kuroo frowned.</p><p>“Should have thought about that before you became a thief.”</p><p>“Anyway,” Oikawa broke in before a fight could break out, “any updates on other shows?” He was leaning his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, which made eating awkward for Iwaizumi. Shouyou ate as fast as he could, still scared about his plates careening off the table. </p><p>Kuroo pointed his fork at Oikawa. “I’ve sent a few cds to the clubs Yaku mentioned, which includes Kitaichi and Wonderland. So far, we’re set to play a couple weeknights at Kitaichi. I’m hoping Wonderland gets back to us soon, but I guess we’ll see,” he explained. </p><p>Akaashi hummed before taking a sip of his tea. When he was done, he shifted to talk to everyone at the table, “Konoha called me.” </p><p>The effect on the table was instant.</p><p>“He’s still alive?”</p><p>“Bastard fell off the face of the earth!”</p><p>“Is that the guy who got you and Bokuto together,” Iwaizumi asked across from Shouyou.</p><p>“That’s not exactly what happened,” Bokuto admitted around a bite of ham.</p><p>“Okay, anyway, he called me. Turns out he’s living in Kobe.”</p><p>“Doing what,” Shouyou asked. His upperclassman had graduated alongside Bokuto, but he hadn’t been heard from since the ceremony. Konoha had never been the type for social media, and his number had been changed before anyone thought to check in on him.</p><p>“He told me some wild story about inheriting his grandmother’s bakery. He said he ‘lost track of time’ and figured he’d call to see what the rest of us were up to,” Akaashi told them with a shrug. </p><p>Oikawa laughed into Iwaizumi’s shoulder, “He lost track of time for… five years?”</p><p>“That sounds about right,” Shouyou said, his own chuckling marred by the amount of eggs he was shoveling into his mouth. </p><p>“Anyway, he told me about a bar a little southwest of Sannomiya that has local and visiting musicians play on Fridays. They also have jam sessions on Sundays.”</p><p>Shouyou watched as Kuroo’s face lit up. Saying the words “jam session” was like dangling a carrot in front of him. </p><p>“What’s the place called? I should definitely call them up.”</p><p>“It’s called The Alchemist. Konoha gave me their number.” Akaashi moved his satchel to his lap. Bokuto pulled Akaashi’s plates towards him in an effort to keep the satchel clean. Pulling out his datebook, Akaashi handed Kuroo a small slip of paper with the bar’s phone number. </p><p>After thanking Akaashi, Kuroo pulled out his phone, smearing syrup all across the screen. He inputted the number into his phone and put it back in his pocket, sticky and all.</p><p>“That’s so disgusting,” Oikawa whispered, closing his eyes.</p><p>“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Iwaizumi warned, but Shouyou saw it was too late. Either Oikawa was now truly asleep or he was stubborn enough to keep faking throughout the rest of the meal.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>The band decided that their last home turf show would be during Golden Week at The Cat’s Paw, one of Sendai’s larger clubs. Since the inception of the band, the club’s ancient owner, Nekomata, had a soft spot for the boys.</p><p>“Your songs give this old man a touch of peace,” he would tell them. He always threatened to retire and pass the club on to his much younger right hand man, Naoi, but every spring Nekomata would change his mind.</p><p>“I like watching you young people enjoy your youth. If I retire, what will I do? Take up knitting,” he was fond of saying. </p><p>Of a Feather’s nights at The Cat’s Paw were filled with familiar faces. These were the fans that had listened to them when they had no business performing: friends from work, high school and university, strangers that happened to be bored on the night of their inaugural performance. </p><p>That had been a sleepy Tuesday, but today’s show was a cacophonous Saturday night. Already sweaty at his drums, Shouyou wondered why he continued to try to wear a real shirt at all. He shucked it off during one of Kuroo’s monologues to the crowd. A couple of people yelled when Shouyou revealed the piece of clothing that could barely be called a tank top. </p><p>“Shouyou’s stripping behind me, isn’t he,” Kuroo asked into the microphone. A few people laughed in response.</p><p>“Anyway,” Kuroo continued, “as a lot of you probably saw on our twitter, this is our last show in this area for a while.” A noise of unhappiness rippled through the crowd.</p><p>“Sorry we’re leaving for a while, but maybe it gives you an excuse to visit Osaka, yeah,” Akaashi asked. On stage, he hardly ever opened his mouth except to sing. Cheers went up through the crowd.</p><p>Kuroo strummed a nonsense rhythm on his electric guitar. “We’re going to be teaming up with Fox Glove for a few nights throughout the summer, so be sure to check them out online. We’re really looking forward to working with them.”</p><p>Kuroo’s music shifted into the melody of the next song. Oikawa picked up, matching Kuroo with his own harmonies. Akaashi put his lips to the microphone and sang, “<a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2ksxhKbBfirRHWXGuAi13E?si=LzKywFdETTuMPZZKCTM5lA">c</a><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2ksxhKbBfirRHWXGuAi13E?si=LzKywFdETTuMPZZKCTM5lA"><em>rossed, keep my fingers crossed. And my lips still cracked, and my teeth stay locked </em> .” </a></p><p>Shouyou started the kick drum, and off they went into the night.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Alright Shouyou, who are you riding with,” Akaashi asked. The two vans that they were driving all the way down to Kuroo’s aunt’s house in Osaka were stuffed to the brim with equipment. Bokuto and Kenma fought about how much stuff Bokuto really needed to bring since every place had what he would need at the ready.</p><p>“Do you think I want to be caught without Kuroo’s distortion pedal? I’m also contractually obligated to bring Oikawa’s moisturizer, or did you forget that,” Bokuto towered over Kenma. </p><p>Kenma scoffed, “did you actually read your contract or did Oikawa just tell you that?”</p><p>Bokuto had no retort, but he vowed to have his revenge on Oikawa. He opened the passenger side door of Kuroo’s van and pouted.</p><p>Kenma, for his part, rolled his eyes and stomped over to Iwaizumi’s van. He had his headphones in as soon as he buckled into his seat. </p><p>From the driver’s seat Kuroo yelled, “what, you’re abandoning me?”</p><p>Without taking off his headphones, Kenma sent Kuroo a rude gesture and slammed the car door shut.</p><p>“I think I’ll ride with you, Akaashi,” Shouyou decided. </p><p>“Good I’ll need some company. Those two will be sulky until we make it past Kanto.”</p><p>Shouyou was not looking forward to spending the next 12 hours stuck in a car, but Kuroo had promised the more rambunctious members of the band that there would be frequent stops. </p><p>Shouyou settled into his row of the van and asked, “do you think we’re going to be able to see Mt Fuji?”</p><p>As Kuroo pulled out of the parking lot down the street from Kenma’s apartment, he replied, “I don’t think the road takes us that close to it, but if it’s a clear day we might get a glimpse. No promises, Shouyou.”</p><p>“Damn, I guess it’s fine. The roads get crowded the closer you get to Fuji right? Being in the car longer would suck,” Shouyou admitted.</p><p>Bokuto tried to lean forward, probably to hit his head on the dashboard, but his seatbelt choked him spectacularly.</p><p>“Don’t you leave me yet,” Akaashi warned.</p><p>“No, never, but I just remembered I get carsick easily.”</p><p>Shouyou freaked out immediately. “Well you’re in the best seat for it! I-I think I have something,” he unbuckled and turned around to try to dig for his bag. The back of the van was crammed tighter than tetris blocks, with his bag at the very bottom.</p><p>When they started packing up the vans, Shouyou had prided himself on being the most ready, but he felt foolish now. </p><p>“Kuroo, should we stop to get him some stomach medicine? And a bag? And-” Shouyou’s words were all running together. </p><p>“Shouyou, put your seatbelt back on,” Akaashi chided Shouyou. </p><p>“But-”</p><p>“I’ll be okay if we get some medicine before we hit the highway,” Bokuto offered.</p><p>The truth was, Shouyou was more worried for himself than for Bokuto. He had packed himself stomach medicine but in the excitement to get on the road, he had left it in his bag. He figured he would be okay. It had been years since the last time he got dizzy enough to puke. In fact it had been on the bus on the way to the airport for his school trip in second year. He had rushed his breakfast, and Kageyama had-</p><p>“Call Oikawa and tell them we’re pulling over at the next pharmacy,” Kuroo’s voice cut through Shouyou’s thoughts. He tossed his phone at Akaashi.</p><p>Shouyou settled back into his seat. The stop and go of the car was already making Shouyou feel lightheaded.</p><p>Akaashi unlocked Kuroo’s phone and found Oikawa in Kuroo’s favorites. He put the phone up to his ear. “Oikawa, hey-” he stopped mid sentence.</p><p>“No, we didn’t even notice. You’re where? Okay, well that’s fine, but we’re going to stop to get some stomach medicine.”</p><p>Akaashi was quiet for a moment, listening to Oikawa. Kuroo swung the van into a cheap parking lot. With some effort, he backed the massive vehicle into a spot. </p><p>Akaashi turned around to face Shouyou, his hand covering the receiver.</p><p>“Shouyou, why didn’t you tell us you get sick, too?”</p><p>“I guess I forgot,” he shrugged.</p><p>“You already look a little pale, dork.” Akaashi turned back around and finished his conversation with Oikawa, “yeah, enjoy your coffee, traitor. Don’t come crying to me when Iwaizumi yells at you for needing to stop every-”</p><p>Akaashi gave out a grunt and handed Kuroo his phone back. “Drama queen hung up on me,” he explained.</p><p>Akaashi quickly left the van and came back in a few minutes. He doled out the medicine to Bokuto and Shouyou. Before Kuroo pulled back out onto the road, Akaashi snuck a quick kiss to Bokuto’s temple. </p><p>As his own stomach began to settle, Shouyou thought about how much he craved something as dynamic as the love Bokuto and Akaashi shared. It was a beautiful friendship that had slipped into an equally beautiful relationship. </p><p>They took turns supporting each other, and Shouyou had been there to see it all. When Akaashi began playing with the idea of starting a real band, Bokuto signed up at a trade school to learn sound engineering. Akaashi had begged Bokuto to not make big life decisions based on his passing dreams, but Bokuto had insisted he liked the idea of making Akaashi’s voice shine.</p><p>As Bokuto began to fall in love with the craft, Akaashi had taken on working mornings at a coffee shop in addition to his night shifts with Kuroo at the convenience store. Because of this, Bokuto had been able to focus on finishing his training. Their mutual passion for the sound of their budding band had galvanized the rest into action. It was through Bokuto’s connections that they got their first gig at the Cat’s Paw. </p><p>As Shouyou began to drift off into a light sleep, he marveled at the fact that their love had shaped the path they were all walking down together. Just as he was letting go of consciousness, he recalled that his own failure at love had shaped this path as well. But, he didn’t like to think about that.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Aching Head, Aching World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In June of his first year of high school, he served a volleyball to the back of Kageyama Tobio’s head.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here is chapter two! There are a couple of injuries in this chapter, but nothing graphic! Wanted to give y'all a little heads up. The art featured in this chapter was done by <a href="kingstrawberrymilk.tumblr.com">Tai</a> so please go shower the original post in love! </p>
<p>Edit: the wonderful <a href="https://twitter.com/sonianime">Sonianime</a> drew some beautiful art of <a href="https://twitter.com/sonianime/status/1376624354583326724?s=20">Hinata and the torii gate</a> so please go check it out!!</p>
<p>I have a <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4QKC0u7bWlC4ZMoeQy5VYL?si=r5_S8eF3TwCnHYOnoeFSMQ">playlist</a> for kagehina in this fic! I recommend listening to it hehehe<br/>This chapter's title comes from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/4BK2hCEYwRPEyaydTMnGxQ?si=azDotDmGS9iq_NAPIcaq6A">It's Not A Side Effect of the Cocaine, I Am Thinking It Must Be Love</a><br/>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shouyou had seen Kageyama a few times in the halls during lunch and after school. His height and beautiful eyes always had girls hanging out the doors of their classrooms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> The art club’s room was across the hall from the band’s club room, much to the chagrin of the art club president. Akaashi had to keep thinking of ways to assuage the upperclassman’s anger. Bokuto sure wasn’t any help. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi decided one day to bring Shouyou with him to make nice with the art club’s president. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Moniwa,” Akaashi addressed the third year with a bow as they entered the club room. Shouyou also bowed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The club room was filled with students at their easels. Their smocks made them look like kindergarteners, which made him smile. Some paintings and drawings adorned the white walls, creating bursts of color.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akaashi, what brings you across the hall today,” Moniwa asked, his tone bright, but the corners of his mouth were fighting to curve into any shape except a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi placed a hand on Shouyou’s shoulders. “This our first year, Hinata Shouyou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nice to meet you!” he bowed once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Moniwa Kaname, I’m the president of the art club. It’s nice to meet you, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi explained the reason for their visit. “We have Hinata starting on the drums today so we would appreciate it if-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moniwa’s mouth finally did manage to frown, “I see, so we can expect more noise than music in the coming months?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou’s cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. “I’ll work hard to not be a nuisance!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you so much for always being so patient with us,” Akaashi added.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moniwa looked from Shouyou to Akaashi and back to Shouyou. He ran a hand through his hair and gave him a reassuring smile, saying, “do your best.” He turned to Akaashi and asked, “Are you aiming to play at the Culture festival in November?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The change in subject signaled that Moniwa wasn’t going to complain to the teachers any time soon. Relief washed through Shouyou. His posture relaxed as his upperclassmen continued their small talk. He let his eyes wander around the club room. One piece hung up behind Moniwa caught his eye. It was mostly white, except for the gray of the sky and the harsh red of the torii gate depicted. Snow buried everything except the defiantly bright gate: the trees, the shrine in the distance, the path through it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He caught Moniwa’s eyes. He turned to follow Shouyou’s gaze and noticed the same painting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s by one of our first years, Kageyama,” Moniwa explained. “It’s a great piece, right? It’s drying right now. He said he’s been working on it for a few months, he just finished it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou drummed his fingers against his thighs. He didn’t particularly like the painting. If anything, it unsettled him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi knew his silence was a bad sign, so he shot Shouyou a look, warning him against saying anything rude.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think,” he finally said, “it’s lonely.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second door of the club room, far away from them, rattled open and closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi and Shouyou bid their goodbyes and crossed the hallway back into their own club room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t understand why you brought me with you. That was embarrassing,” he confessed as he settled behind the drums and the clear barrier that separated him from the rest of the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi accepted a 500 yen coin from Bokuto before slinging his bass over his shoulder. He turned to Shouyou and said, “Moniwa has a soft spot for first years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He means he used you as bait,” Bokuto commented from his keyboard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh,” Shouyou shrugged, “glad it worked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we start now, or what,” Konoha asked, his grip on his guitar tight and annoyed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Count us in, Shouyou.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In June of his first year of high school, he served a volleyball to the back of Kageyama Tobio’s head. Their classes were doing joint physical education, and Kageyama had been the first person to be chosen for their team. Shouyou had been dead last, but he didn’t mind much. Kageyama was excellent at serving and receiving; his setting skills were good for someone in a nonathletic club. Since he was in the art club, Kageyama balked at spiking and blocking. He made a face every time he rotated into the front line.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou liked sports, but his coordination with volleyball left much to be desired. It grated against his competitive spirit every time he flubbed a spike or a receive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He caught the ball as his teammate lobbed it to him for his serve, unsure if he should soft serve or try to hit it overhand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While he was musing, The instructor blew his shrill whistle. Startled, he tossed the ball into the air and slammed it with his spiking hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ball flew away at a sharp speed, but it didn’t have the rise it needed to get over the net. Instead, to Shouyou’s eternal mortification, it slammed directly into the back of Kageyama’s head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama let out a shocked gasp as his head snapped forward from the force of the volleyball. Shouyou watched as Kageyama slowly brought his hand to the back of his head, seeming dazed. The instructor called a time out as the ball dribbled uselessly on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay, Kageyama?” Someone on their team asked him. The gymnasium was quiet, except for Shouyou’s increasingly ragged breaths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not exactly sure what to do, he ran from the serving line to where Kageyama was at the front line. He swung as close to the net as he could manage, trying to see Kageyama’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” Shouyou yelled, nervous about hurting a classmate. “Does it hurt? Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who would be okay after getting hit in the head? Is your brain scrambled,” Kageyama’s deep voice answered. He lifted his head slightly, dislodging his bangs. Shouyou could see the cold blue of his eyes drilling into him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou could feel the anger roiling off of him. For a moment, they stayed staring at each other. He figured he could try apologizing again, but the words stayed lodged in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get our clubs don’t always get along,” Kageyama spat out, “but that doesn’t mean you need to attack me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou couldn’t help the delirious laugh that escaped his lungs. “On what planet would someone take a rivalry that far? Like sorry the band makes too much noise for your delicate artistic ears.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you understand that what you do in your little band isn’t art?” Kageyama stood up straighter, no longer in shock from the hit to the head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this point, the instructor realized that they wouldn’t be able to patch this up nicely. He clapped his hands a couple of times to call the attention away from the bickering pair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kageyama, that was a solid hit, you should go to the nurse’s office, just to be careful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou felt all of the eyes on the court turn back to him again. As the person who caused the problem, he should be the one to make sure Kageyama was going to be okay. More than anything, Shouyou wanted to climb into a hole and hide from Kageyama’s piercing gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go with him,” he began to say, but Kageyama interrupted him, puffing out his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need you to babysit me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, actually, you do! Because if you die, it’s my fault!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to die from a volleyball serve, you idiot!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The instructor sighed loudly and yelled at them to leave the gymnasium so the game could continue. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On the way to the nurse’s office, Kageyama used his long legs to briskly carry him across the campus. Shouyou fought to maintain a walking pace while trying to keep up with Kageyama. It was difficult, but he did his best to hide his effort. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They slid open the door to the nurse’s office, but no one answered their greeting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She must be out,” Shouyou said, mostly to himself. He wasn’t wearing his watch, so he looked around for the clock. It was getting to be lunch time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama shrugged next to him, “at least we tried.” He tried to turn around to leave, but Shouyou caught his arm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No you don’t.” He tried to pull Kageyama toward one of the chairs by the nurse’s desk. “You really should get checked out, we’ll sit here as long as we need to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama made a disgusted noise, but he only fought a little bit before settling into a chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou crossed his arms and asked, “now was that so hard?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For his part, Kageyama just rolled his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking around the office, Shouyou spotted the partitioned cots set aside for sick students. They looked empty, but he watched enough television to know that potential concussion victims shouldn’t go to sleep. There was always a lot of screaming about that in dramas. So for now, grumpy Kageyama was fine in the chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou didn’t see anywhere else for himself to sit down, so he took a seat on the nice rolling chair that must have belonged to the school nurse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them spoke for a long minute and then a longer second minute. The clock on the wall ticked slowly, like the sad, gloomy day outside of the windows. He watched the panes as the rain splashed them. The noise of rain always comforted him, but he preferred sunlit days to the monotony of June’s storms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he snapped his head back to Kageyama across from him. Their eyes locked for a moment, before Kageyama shifted to also look out the window. Shouyou joined him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your hair,” Kageyama said, his voice pinched, “it’s…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t dye it,” Shouyou replied. He was used to getting the question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not..”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifted to look at Kageyama. A spectacular frown carved into his face. It was so deep, Shouyou wouldn’t be surprised if his face got stuck like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a beautiful color,” Kageyama finally finished, an embarrassed pink dusting his cheeks. His tone sounded so genuine, it caught Shouyou off guard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um.” He wasn’t really sure how to respond to the awkward compliment. “Thank… you,” he responded, but it came out more like a question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were silent again for a few beats before Kageyama picked the conversation back up again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Moniwa’s been saying that I need to paint with more colors.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he saying your paintings are bland? That’s harsh,” Shouyou said, trying to sympathize. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama took a deep breath to speak, but the nurse slid the door open, causing both young men to jolt out of their seats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry for the intrusion!” They both gave her a polite bow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He got hit really hard in the head,” Shouyou explained, nodding his head toward Kageyama.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t that hard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You actually went into shock, I’m sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, shocked you could hit anything that hard,” Kageyama shot back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what Kageyama-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Boys,” the nurse interrupted, her voice straining, “enough. Kageyama was it? Have a seat and I can check you over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As for you,” she said, pointing a well manicured finger at Shouyou, “wait outside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave her a quick apology and made for the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After a few minutes, Kageyama slid the door back open and stuck his head out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She says you can come back in now.” He opened the door wider to allow Shouyou to enter. Kageyama walked back over to his chair, and Shouyou stood next to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think he’s just fine, but he should go home early and rest up,” she told Shouyou. “Can you walk him home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine-” Kageyama tried to insist, but Shouyou nodded at the nurse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s my fault he’s hurt. I’ll make sure he gets home safe,” Shouyou replied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to miss my club,” Kageyama grumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be missing mine, too,” Shouyou told him. He’d have to send Akaashi a message and hope that he got it before club started.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, well, hurry home,” the nurse said, while writing the boys a pass to leave early. She waved them out of her office with an exasperated sigh. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Shouyou said once they were out on the street, “do you live close by?” The rain had stopped, but the dark clouds still threatened to open back up at any moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama lifted his head to gesture down the busy street, “only about a 15 minute walk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s so close! I usually bike.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is it, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou played with his umbrella, tossing it like a baton. “My mom gets a little scared when it rains like this, so I took a bus and walked this morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long did that take you,” Kageyama asked, sliding his eyes toward him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About an hour and a half.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sucks.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It struck him that Kageyama wasn’t a great conversationalist, his small talk left much to be desired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not so bad,” Shouyou shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They turned off the main street. Instantly, the shops disappeared and they began climbing uphill toward the residential area. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t expecting you to live so close,” Shouyou admitted, “maybe I should go back to class as soon as I drop you off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They turned another corner in silence. Worried about Kageyama, Shouyou kept sneaking glances at him. His shoulders seemed wound especially tight. Shouyou drummed his fingers against his thighs, wondering if he should speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama’s shoulders only tightened more. He adjusted his pace so he was just a step ahead. His hands came up to grip the straps of his school bag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should sit for a painting,” he finally said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou scoffed, “sit for a painting? Why would I do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you owe me a favor,” Kageyama replied, “it’s your fault I’m missing the school day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou sped up to overtake Kageyama. He swung himself in front of him, walking backwards up the hill. “I think that’s a bit much. Like, doesn’t walking you home make us even?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re saying that you don’t feel sorry for almost giving me a concussion?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wasn’t it you,” Shouyou says, pointing his finger at Kageyama, “that said you were just fine? Not even hurt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still walking backwards, Shouyou felt his leg roll over something in the road. He felt his body giving into gravity, but Kageyama threw a hand out to catch his jacket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stood in the road for a moment, a magician and his levitating assistant. He regained his wits and straightened out when Kageyama let him go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, thanks,” Shouyou said, moving to walk beside Kageyama instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As a response, Kageyama stopped in front of a tall, thin modern house. He opened the gate and said, “see? You owe me a favor. Sit for a sketch, at least.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should have just let me crack my head open on the asphalt, asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry for intruding!” Shouyou proclaimed in the entryway, but Kageyama told him no one was home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re going to be working ‘till late,” he explained. They climbed up the narrow stairs to Kageyama’s room. Like the art club room, the walls were a blinding white, punctuated with all styles of artwork. There were monochrome sketches pinned to the walls and a couple of paintings. Shouyou’s eyes were instantly drawn to a dark landscape filled with buildings that stood tall and proud all the way to the sea. It was a view from a mountain top, far away from their small town outside of Sendai. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama was about to head back down to the ground floor to make tea and look for snacks, but Shouyou caught him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kageyama, where is this,” he asked, pointing at the landscape. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Kobe’s harbor. Like here, there’s a lot of mountains. I liked the lights of the buildings.” His explanation was mechanical, like he didn’t really hold any fondness for the view. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou took a seat at the low table in the center of the room. The curtains of the windows were pulled open, but the churning sky was nearly black, despite the fact it was still early in the afternoon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This contrasted with the brightness of Kageyama’s room. Beyond the art on the walls, the room was sparsely decorated. His bed sat in a state Shouyou would describe as mostly made, with the blankets wrinkled and slightly askew. Next to the bed sat a large bookcase filled to the brim with art reference books, sketchbooks, and boxes and boxes of Shouyou could only assume were a plethora of art supplies. Every other corner of the room was a white void. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama returned with a tray with tea and what looked like some grocery store brand muffins. Shouyou rounded the table to sit with his back to the window. They quickly ate the muffins, Kageyama finishing before him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched as Kageyama stood up and walked over to the bookcase. He ran his long fingers over the ringed spines of the various sketchbooks before pulling out one of the larger books. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou began to feel self-conscious about being under Kageyama’s methodical gaze for an extended period of time. The concept of being interesting enough to be the focus of anything was a new feeling for him. He wasn’t quite sure if he hated the idea. In the band club, the group was beginning to rely on his drumming to keep the music flowing at a steady rate. Every time his beat drifted, Akaashi or Konoha were there to remind him of his importance. Maybe for Kageyama, Shouyou being the subject was just as necessary. That idea made his palms begin to sweat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Kageyama sat back down at the table with a few pencils and an eraser, Shouyou squeaked out, “I’m in your care!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama jumped a little at the outburst, his eyes darting away. “Thanks for agreeing to sit for a sketch…” He flipped the sketchbook open and selected a pencil.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just pick a way to sit. Anything’s fine as long as I can see your face and you sit still,” he explained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou situated himself with his hands on the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lift your chin a little,” Kageyama said. “And put your hands in your lap instead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought you said anything was fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I know you’re gonna start drumming on the table if I let you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama’s observation hit him right on the head. He placed his hands in his lap without a retort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every couple of moments, Kageyama would lift his eyes from the sketchbook and narrow them. The first few times, he felt himself tense, but as Kageyama kept going, Shouyou began to think the artist looked like a bobbing chicken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something that was meant to be a laugh tried to jump out of his mouth, but he clamped his mouth tight. The noise that came out was like a tea kettle screaming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama’s head snapped up from the sketch. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.” Kageyama picked up his eraser and gently ran it over the paper. For a moment, the motion synched up with the rain hitting the house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long have you been making art,” Shouyou asked. He wanted to look over at the crammed bookshelf, but he feared Kageyama’s ire if he moved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess since forever,” came the lackluster reply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you ever entered stuff into a contest?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama hummed for a moment before saying, “a couple in middle school. I received the top prize for my age bracket.” He picked up a thicker pencil and looked up at Shouyou.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s so cool!” He felt a smile split open across his face, “Are you going to submit anything this year? Like the torii gate?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama didn’t answer, his eyes moving down Shouyou’s face. They settled on his curved mouth. After a beat, Shouyou tried again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Earth to Kageyama, did you hear me? Are you going to submit the torii gate piece?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama lowered his head back down to the sketch. “Moniwa thinks it’s too dreary to win any awards.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t agree, do you?” he asked, his smile slipping away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s whatever. You didn’t like it either, I think you said.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” Shouyou knew that wasn’t what he said out loud, but it was what he had thought. “I only said it was lonely.” He drummed his fingers against his thighs trying to think of what to say next. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess something more vibrant would do better in a contest?” Shouyou offered. Quickly, he tacked on, “well, at least according to Moniwa, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s why you’re sitting here,” Kageyama admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “Now stop squirming, I’m almost done with your rat’s nest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou’s hands tried to fly to his hair, an insecure impulse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said stop moving,” Kageyama grunted, his perpetual frown deepening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You also insulted my hair,” Shouyou pointed out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop talking for a second, geez.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time, he listened. This silence didn’t demand to be punctured by noise. The light from the window brightened, illuminating Kageyama’s shadowy face. Shouyou figured the rain must have stopped; he could no longer hear its pitter-patter.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Kageyama said, putting down his thick pencil. He threw his long arms over his head and stretched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou immediately stood up and shook out his legs. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was already close to evening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never want to sit for that long ever again,” he whined, bouncing on the balls of his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It didn’t even take that long,” Kageyama quipped, closing the sketchbook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, wait let me, see it!” Shouyou whipped around the table and kneeled into Kageyama’s space. “Let me see it! Show me, show me!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama tried to lean away from Shouyou, but he couldn’t manage it without risking falling. He gave him a solid shove and said, “Fine, but stop breathing my air.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yay!” Shouyou corrected his posture, ready to see what Kageyama had created. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Flipping the sketchbook back open, he handed it over. On the page sat Shouyou’s doppelganger. Kageyama had paid great detail to the swirls of his curls, each cluster mapped out with care. Unconsciously, he brought a hand to his hair to feel the patterns for himself. With the same amount of care, Kageyama had sketched and shaded his smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that what it looks like?” he asked, mostly to himself. He turned his attention to Kageyama. Shouyou had yet to see Kageyama’s face molded into anything except a deep set frown, until now. His face betrayed his eagerness for approval. His eyes were wide and his mouth was pursed into a small circle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama plucked the sketchbook out of his hand. “I think I’ll put you in something besides your jacket though,” he explained, “for the finished piece, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re really going to paint it?!” Shouyou felt embarrassment creeping into his face. He looked around at the landscapes all around the room. He pointed at Kobe’s harbor, “isn’t that stuff your sort of thing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama stretched away from Shouyou to grab his school bag. He slid the sketchbook inside it. When he sat back up he said, “What? You think it’s going to come out shitty?” His frown was back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m pretty sure it will be fine,” Shouyou waved his hands uselessly in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what’s wrong with me painting you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Big fuss for nothing,” Kageyama complained. He picked up their mess from their earlier snack and made for the door. “You should probably head home soon. I can see you getting stranded on the mountain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou smacked his hand on the table in front of him, “the busses don’t stop running this early, dummy. Guess you wouldn’t have to know living so close. Pisses me off.” The last part was said into the empty space where Kageyama had been standing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alone again in Kageyama’s room, Shouyou rolled around the floor with his hands over his face. What a day, what a weird day. He wondered if he could turn back the clock to restart the volleyball match. And if he could, would he want to avoid grabbing the attention of Kageyama? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Being in Kageyama’s presence made Shouyou feel smashed tight under a microscope. His sharp eyes missed nothing, his attention to detail in art and real life proved that. The newness of this feeling, this being seen, struck him once more with renewed force as he smacked his head on the wood floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat back up and decided he liked the attention. It made him feel warm like when Akaashi or Bokuto praised him. So far in high school, he had been friendly with everyone, but no one stuck out to him as a friend. The upperclassmen adored him, but he wasn’t sure if that was… what he felt like he was missing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The push and pull he found with Kageyama today felt like that missing piece. There was a need to answer every verbal volley with a quip of his own. They were mapping the edges of how far they could prod each other. It felt good. It felt like friendship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou looked around the room for his discarded book bag, unsure of where it landed when he arrived. He found it by the door, with Kageyama’s bag propped against it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, he opened Kageyama’s book bag. He carefully lifted the flap and removed the large sketchbook from within. After a few gentle flips, he found the sketch. Looking at the lines, he vaguely wondered what Kageyama would call the color of his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door burst open, making Shouyou jump. He cradled the sketchbook to his chest and looked up at Kageyama. To his shock, Kageyama’s face was pale; his breaths were short gasps. He closed the door soundlessly. Shouyou watched as he pulled something bulky from his school jacket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are those my shoes?” Shouyou placed the sketchbook on top of Kageyama’s school bag. “Kageyama why do you-mphm,” Kageyama slammed his free hand over Shouyou’s mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to bite Kageyama’s hand, but it left his face as quickly as it had appeared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have to go, right now… I’m sorry, they said they would be back late,” Kageyama said, dropping the shoes into his lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who? Your parents? What’s the pro-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t be here,” Kageyama said in a frightened voice. “You can’t be here,” he repeated, mostly to himself, “I’m so stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou shot up to his feet, “it’s going to be okay.” He looked at the window. “Do you think that-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the only option,” Kageyama interrupted as he followed his gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kageyama, you idiot, this is the second floor,” he wanted to yell, but he didn’t want Kageyama to get in trouble. Whatever was going on, it worried Shouyou, but there was no time to ask questions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a tree right there! And the roof is pretty flat below the window… I think.” Kageyama’s head snapped to the closed door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think?” Shouyou’s voice came out as a high pitch whine. “Oh my god, Kageyama, you owe me. You owe me so big.” He walked softly over to the window and shoved it open, observing the roof and the large tree below it. He bent over to put on his shoes; the whole thing felt surreal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does that mean you won’t sit for the painting,” Kageyama asked. The softness in his voice made Shouyou snap his head up. Kageyama was making the same wide, vulnerable face from earlier. His mouth once again gently pursed. He had a passing thought that he liked that face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll sit for the painting, don’t worry.” He flashed Kageyama a smile. “Toss me my bag.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama threw Shouyou his bag. Once the strap was over his shoulder, Shouyou began crawling out the window. “See you tomorrow, Kageyama.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama nodded and closed the window behind him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou had forgotten about the rain. He had forgotten about June’s cruelty. When he inched towards the edge of the roof, reaching to bridge the small gap between it and the tree, he slipped. As he fell, the one thought in his head was not to scream. It would all be for nothing if he screamed and Kageyama’s parents found him. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sinking Our Teeth In the Heart of The Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With this low light, he could see the bartender had been joined by a coworker. The man behind the bar was tall and broad, his presence taking up all the space behind the counter. The man lifted his head as Akaashi began the next line. Shouyou could have sworn he could see the blue of his eyes all the way from the stage.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello again! thank you for reading this next chapter of the fic &lt;3 </p><p>This chapter's title comes from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2vh3fCzas7WUjEVkjBrGP4?si=rxDcZjOxRP6uPEaPFK5jag">Eat Your Heart Out by Walk the Moon</a></p><p>Merry Christmas if you’re celebrating, and hopefully a nice relaxing day for everyone! </p><p>Here's the link for <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1gBVMK6bop3WfbNRQXIAVG?si=Yg5wNQE7R2-gXdwngpnuaw">Of A Feather's playlist</a> again, in case you want to listen!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shouyou sat up, violently thrusted out of his dreams. His hands immediately shot up to touch his collarbone. He had been dreaming about falling off Kageyama’s roof. In his dreams, sometimes his hands were able to brush against the branches as he fell, but he could never grab hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After affirming that he was fine and his bones had been healed for years, he saw that Akaashi was looking at him. His brow was furrowed in concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nasty dream?” Akaashi asked, bending over to reach into the ice chest they had filled with drinks. He came back up and offered a bottle of water to Shouyou. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something like that,” he answered. He accepted the water bottle with a nod and allowed the cool water to calm him down. “Where are we right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we’re a ways outside of Saitama,” Akaashi guessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, how long was I asleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think about 4 hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Shouyou,” Bokuto said from his seat, sounding freshly arisen himself, “you weren’t snoring.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you were,” Kuroo told him, adjusting the volume of the van’s speaker. Fox Glove’s lead singer, Miya Atsumu’s voice sang over cascading guitars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t snore,” Bokuto shrugged, “just ask Akaashi.” He twisted his seat to look back at his boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t make me lie for you, Bokuto.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’ouch, I guess we have the consensus!” Kuroo laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou finished the rest of his water bottle as Bokuto pretended to be insulted by Akaashi’s “betrayal.” It had been a long time since he had thought about the fall from Kageyama’s roof and the whirlwind friendship that followed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou had hopped on the bus after the fall. His shocked body hadn't registered just how hurt he was until he was standing in the entryway of his house. He had told his mother he had slipped stepping out of the bus and hit the curb at a bad angle. She had taken him immediately to the hospital. The fracture was messy inside of him, resulting in surgery and a short stay. He wasn’t sure if his mother believed his flimsy store, but she never pushed him for the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Shouyou returned to school, Kageyama had felt terrible about forcing him outside that evening, but he had refused to say why it was such a big deal in the first place. Despite adding an hour to his daily commute and making him miss club for the rest of the semester, Shouyou had forgiven him. In the end, he spent most of his time in the art club’s room, watching Kageyama mix and remix shades of orange.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to see some lyrics I wrote?” Akaashi’s warm voice cut through the thoughts of the past. He had a small notebook in his hand and a pen in the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou smiled, but admitted he probably shouldn’t try to read in the van. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll read you a few lines then, and you can tell me if they’re any good,” Akaashi offered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou closed his eyes and flopped back down on his row of seats. He threw his hands up and said, “okay, lay it on me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Akaashi clear his throat as he began to read, “the walk between your house and mine is a tightrope walk that tilts the world upside down, inside out…”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Their van was the first to pull up to the house. Kuroo put on the hazard lights and hopped out to greet his aunt and uncle who were standing in the driveway in the yard. His aunt gave him a hard slap on the arm, and he exchanged bows with his uncle. Kuroo gestured excitedly to the van. Soon, the gate was rolled open, and Kuroo was able to pull the van in with plenty of room for the next one, whenever it arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After initial introductions, Akaashi said, “I’m so sorry you have to take such a late flight out because of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo’s aunt gave a light laugh and said, “I can’t get my husband out of the house early in the day. We probably would have booked this flight, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall I help you boys unload your gear,” Kuroo’s uncle offered, craning his neck to see Iwaizumi’s van roll into the driveway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t worry about it,” Bokuto replied, puffing his chest out, “we’re young and there’s a ton of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm, wouldn’t want to throw my back out before our vacation, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right,” Kuroo’s aunt said, “I won’t let anything hold me back from having a cool summer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation lulled as they watched Oikawa all but fall out of the van with a small package in his hands. “Auntie!” he yelled. Shouyou had to hold in a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so nice to meet you,” Oikawa said, holding out the beautiful wrapped package. The fabric wrapped around it was immaculately tied. Kuroo’s aunt tried to refuse the gift, but Oikawa insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a little thank you for letting a bunch of unruly young men live in your house for the summer. I promise to make sure they behave,” he said once she accepted the gift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open it, open it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh but it’s wrapped so beautifully,” she protested. Oikawa kept waving for her to open it. Carefully, she tugged at the knot and slowly unveiled the equally beautifully packaged cookies inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re ginger cookies,” Oikawa explained, “I know my stomach always feels terrible on planes, so I was worried. They settle the stomach well.” He pointed at the smaller batch of cookies in the box. “I also picked out a few macarons. I hope they taste good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, how thoughtful! You really shouldn’t have!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense, it really was the least I could do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My husband always feels terrible on planes. Thank you, Oikawa.” She tucked the box of cookies under her arm and grabbed Kuroo. “Come with me, I’ll show you where we keep the keys, and then I can show you where the guest futon are while your boys unload the vans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they stepped up into the house through the back door, the rest of the Of A Feather team turned to look at Oikawa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, it’s scary how you can just turn on the charm like that,” Bokuto said, punching Oikawa in the arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma came to stand next to Shouyou and whispered into his ear, “he made us stop at three different bakeries before buying those.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? That must have taken forever… wait weren’t you guys behind us,” Shouyou asked, shooting Kenma a scared look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were after we stopped for coffee, but Iwaizumi made up for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit, how fast was he driving?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma’s eyes looked off to some far, unknown land. He said, “Shouyou, you don’t even want to know.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo and his aunt and uncle came back around to the yard with their suitcases. The band gave their thanks a few more times and wished the couple a safe trip as they climbed into their taxi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oikawa, thank you so much for the cookies! Keep those boys in line for me, will you,” his aunt called from the window of the taxi as they took off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were out of sight, Kuroo caught Oikawa in a choke hold with his arm, “how dare you make my aunt love you more than she loves me! She’s my aunt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa tried to laugh with his windpipe being crushed. It didn’t sound great. “It’s not my fault I’m so loveable,” he breathed out, trying to wriggle out of Kuroo’s grasp. “Hajime, save me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi, leaning against one of the vans, didn’t move to help his boyfriend but said, “Kuroo, I’ll miss him if you kill him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hajime!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo laughed and released Oikawa. He ruffled the keyboardist's hair for good measure before announcing, “time to pick rooms!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou jumped sky high in excitement, “I’m with Kenma! Calling it! Calling it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo’s face crumpled unpleasantly. “Ah, c’mon Shouyou can’t you-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Kuroo, he called dibs,” Kenma shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma and Shouyou dumped their bags in the tatami room across from the kitchen. It had less privacy than the bedrooms, but it was the largest room in the house and had the only television. Naturally, this meant it had to be Kenma’s and by extension, Shouyou’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo was going to be rooming with Oikawa after Iwaizumi left. Their room had bunk beds, leftovers from when Kuroo’s cousins still lived in the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Shouyou unpacked his toiletries, Kuroo came into the room, “Iwaizumi’s leaving early in the morning, so I bet I should sleep out here with you guys…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa’s head popped out from the open sliding door, “nah, we’re going out tonight!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo jumped from the sudden appearance. His hair seemed to stand up even higher on his head as he flew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou stood up and headed for the hall to search for the bathroom. “Oh?” He asked. He caught Kuroo’s eye and lifted his toiletries up, and Kuroo pointed at the door diagonal from Oikawa. “Are you and Iwaizumi going to go to a hotel? A certain kind of hotel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa turned around to gasp at him. “Are you insinuating that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I am,” Shouyou laughed, throwing the bathroom door open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s better than you staying here,” he heard Kuroo say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After putting his small bag on the large sink counter, he came back out into the hallway. “It’ll be nice to have a date night out on the town! Do you know where you’re going yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa hummed and made room for Shouyou to pass him on the way back to the tatami room. “I’m torn between Umeda and Dotomburi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get Dotomburi out of the way, you can make Iwaizumi do the Glico man,” Kenma offered from behind the television.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as Iwaizumi’s back in time to help turn in the vans at the rental company, I don’t care what you guys do tonight,” Kuroo decided. “I’m looking forward to a peaceful night’s sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi knocked on the glass sliding doors that connected the tatami room to the backyard and lifted up two guitar cases. Shouyou shuffled over to open the door and accept Akaashi’s bass and his own acoustic guitar he had packed. Hopefully, they would have plenty of time to write together this summer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put his guitar in the corner with his other belongings and carried the bass to Akaashi and Bokuto’s room. When he knocked on the door, Akaashi told him to come in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto was on the bed, curled toward the wall. Akaashi was sitting on the floor with his suitcase open in front of him. He brought a finger to his lips and nodded his head toward his sleeping boyfriend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shot Akaashi a thumbs up; he hefted the bass into the air with a shrug of his free shoulder to ask where he should put the bass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi pointed at the free space by the foot of the bed. After Shouyou put down the bass, Akaashi stood up and gestured for them to leave the room to let Bokuto sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the door was shut Akaashi said, “poor thing only had a little nap the whole time we were in the car. He was trying to be a good passenger for Kuroo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked into the small kitchen and Akaashi began to rummage through the cabinets. “It’s time for some tea,” he explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou spotted the electric kettle on the counter and filled it up with water from the sink. He plugged it in and joined Akaashi in looking for the tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it!” Akaashi announced, twisting to show off the box of bagged green tea he found in one of the upper shelves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the tea was ready, everyone except the napping Bokuto sat at the low table in the tatami room. The sun began to set outside of the glass doors, and the band discussed how they would spend the evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oikawa and Iwaizumi are going on a date,” Kuroo told Akaashi. “And we’ve gotta drop off Shouyou’s drum kit at Kitaichi. Management is letting us store it in their storage room when we’re not using it. We’re there for a couple shows before we open for Fox Glove at Wonderland.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll come with you,” Akaashi offered, but Kuroo waved the idea away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should catch some sleep while Bokuto’s out cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded along. “Yeah, Kenma, Kuroo, and I can handle it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What,” Kenma’s head snapped up from the table he had been resting it on. “I don’t want to go out tonight…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re meeting with the brass at Kitaichi,” Kuroo argued. “Aren’t you supposed to be our manager?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do your hair,” Oikawa offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way.” Kenma narrowed his eyes at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nudged Kenma with his shoulder, “if you come with us, you can pick what we eat for dinner!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo lifted his cup of tea, “good idea Shouyou!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma dropped his head back onto the table. “Fine, we’re having cold soba, then. The summer heat is already getting to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou raised his green tea and clinked it against Kuroo’s cup, “cold soba it is!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The five of them said good night to Akaashi and stepped out into the evening. Shouyou had changed into a pair of black pants, a bright red tank, and a light windbreaker. Kenma had opted for a wrinkled button down over his jeans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have brought a jacket, too, Kenma,” Kuroo said as they drove to the station to drop off Oikawa and Iwaizumi. He had put on a plain black t-shirt and some jeans, as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He can have mine if he gets cold,” Shouyou offered, sensing that Kenma wasn’t in the mood to be nagged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t our Shouyou the sweetest,” Oikawa crooned next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other side of Oikawa sat Iwaizumi. He had been quiet since unloading the vans. Like Oikawa had whined about when they had started planning this summer, the couple had not been dating for very long. It had taken Iwaizumi all his courage to finally confess to Oikawa. In turn, Oikawa had thrown an absolute fit screaming about all the years they could have already been dating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though, in Shouyou’s opinion, Oikawa had needed to get his heart broken. He was sure heartbreak built character. At least, that’s what he had told himself after graduating high school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In any case, the summer away from each other was going to be painful for Oikawa and Iwaizumi. At the station, they hopped out of the van and waved goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With all of the traffic on the highway and the streets, it took them over an hour of driving before they reached the tiny parking lot behind Kitaichi on the outskirts of Umeda. The nearby skyscrapers with their twinkling lights filled Shouyou with a sense of nostalgia, though he had never been here before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He climbed out of the van and opened the passenger door to pull out Kenma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me a second,” Kenma said, using his seat’s mirror to check his eyeliner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not running,” Shouyou told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not running yet, you mean.” He flipped the visor back up and jumped down from the van. “The humidity will get me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not even that humid, Kenma!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks fine,” Kuroo said, coming around the van to lead them into the club. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The staff member at the back door asked their names and called the manager on his cellphone. After confirming they were expected, he allowed them inside. It was early on a Monday night, so the club was mostly empty, save for a few college aged people scattered around the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man with a neat buzz cut approached him, wrinkles just beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Shouyou’s right, Kenma took a deep breath and fished out his business card holder. Kuroo took a step back so Kenma would be the person standing at the head of the trio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Watari, one of the managers here,” the man explained, holding his business card out to Kenma.</span>
</p><p><span>“Nice to meet you, I’m the band’s manager Kozume Kenma,” he responded as they exchanged their cards. “Thank you for letting us use your storage this summer.”</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“It’s our pleasure, we’re happy to have Of a Feather here. We’re hoping you can make things a bit more lively around here.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Ah, we hope so, too,” Kenma responded. He turned to gesture to Kuroo, “you’ve spoken to Kuroo on the phone. He’s the band’s leader.” Kuroo gave Watari a quick bow before Kenma moved on to introducing Shouyou.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is our drummer Shouyou.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou gave a bow slightly deeper than the one Kuroo had offered. “Thank you so much for storing my drum set. We needlessly brought it here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense,” Watari said with a wave of his hands, “it’s better than trying to find one at every venue, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the introductions finished, Kuroo and Shouyou went back to the van to unload the drums. They left Kenma to speak with Watari further, hopefully double checking artist fees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It feels weird leaving Kenma in there by himself,” Shouyou admitted as they opened the van’s back doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll be fine. This stuff is why he’s here,” Kuroo assured him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s still really stressful for him.” Shouyou climbed up and started undoing the cords holding his kit together. Kuroo accepted the pieces without a further comment about Kenma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another staff member helped them load the pieces into the storage room. Shouyou checked all the pieces, making sure they’d be ready for assembly the next night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he emerged from the storage room, he saw Kuroo talking to Watari. Kuroo’s posture was open and easy-going. Slightly behind him, Kenma looked annoyed and listless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-glad we’ve got all the business out of the way,” Shouyou heard Kuroo say. Kenma’s eyes met Shouyou’s for a moment, betraying how tired he already was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou pressed his shoulder against Kenma and pulled out his phone. Kenma watched him as he searched for a place that would be serving cold soba, but nothing really looked promising on the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What time would you like us to arrive tomorrow for a sound check,” Kuroo asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should plan to be here around 6pm,” Watari suggested. “You did say you brought your own sound man? That should give him plenty of time to set up whatever equipment he’s brought.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds perfect, we’ll see you then.” The trio made their goodbyes, but as they were walking away, Kuroo turned back around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know where we can get some good cold soba in the area?”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, Oikawa and the rest of the band wished Iwaizumi a sleepy farewell. As they had promised, the couple had stayed out all night. They only returned when the sun began to show it’s rays along the horizon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi and Kuroo were off to take the vans to the local branch of the rental company. After that, Iwaizumi was taking the bullet train all the way back up to Sendai and his office job. Shouyou had expected Oikawa to actually cry, but he was keeping it together, for the most part.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll call me, right,” Oikawa asked, his hands clamped on Iwaizumi’s arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should call me. You’re the one with the crazy schedule,” he replied, trying to peel Oikawa’s fingers off of him. </span>
</p><p><span>“I’ll call you every night!”</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“You better not, you musician types stay up too late for me.” </span></p><p>
  <span>“Hajime!” Oikawa whined, but let go of his boyfriend. Iwaizumi fished the keys to the van from his pocket and wrapped Oikawa in a quick embrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see if I can come back down for one of your Kyoto shows,” he promised as he let go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get fired for me, dork,” Oikawa laughed. “I’m not rich and famous yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Bokuto said. He was snuggled close to Akaashi even as the temperature was quickly rising. “Is Iwaizumi also aiming to be a trophy husband? Good taste in career.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone rolled their eyes, but it looked like Oikawa and Iwaizumi were finally ready to say goodbye for the summer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the vans rolled away out of sight, Bokuto disentangled himself from Akaashi and threw an arm around Oikawa. “It’s time for you to take a nap, Cinderella, the bags under your eyes are the size of pumpkins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My skin is flawless,” Oikawa sniffled, but he let Bokuto lead him back into the house. Akaashi followed behind them, but Kenma and Shouyou stood in the driveway for a moment longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t decide if I want to eat something or go back to bed,” Kenma mused as he stretched in the sunlight beginning to pour over them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s eyes felt like lead, but his stomach made a ferocious growl. Kenma snapped his head towards him, an eyebrow raised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, I think the grocery store should be open. Let’s get some pancake mix and eggs,” Kenma said as he turned to go back into the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou hummed as he slid the glass door closed. “Look at us being responsible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma haphazardly wrapped his futon up and shoved it into the cabinet. “Yeah, well don’t tell Kuroo. Can’t have him thinking I’m responsible.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>After breakfast, though, Kenma did slip his futon back out and slump right into it. The front door opened, and Kuroo announced he was back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back,” Shouyou said from the kitchen where he was washing the dishes from breakfast. “There’s some pancakes if you’re hungry.” He stacked the clean plates into the dishwasher to dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo eyed the plate stacked with pancakes on the kitchen counter. He wiggled his fingers at them, but grabbed the electric kettle to make tea. At the sink, he hip checked Shouyou lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I had fallen onto the dishwasher,” Shouyou whined, but he bumped Kuroo in return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your ninja reflexes would have kicked in. I believe in you,” Kuroo countered, plugging the kettle in. “What else did you pick up from the grocery store?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We got eggs, milk, bananas, bread, and some lunch meat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice,” Kuroo grabbed one of the plates out of the dishwasher and pulled a couple of pancakes from the stack. “Did Kenma already eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but he went back to sleep,” Shouyou said, finishing up at the sink. The kettle clicked off, so he set about making the tea.</span>
</p><p><span>“Bokuto and Akaashi?</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“They ate and went on a walk.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“And Oikawa’s sleeping?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He better be or else he’ll be a mess tonight,” Shouyou grimaced as he poured some tea for Kuroo and himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo nodded at the cup of tea and said, “I guess you and I could jam for a little bit. You brought your guitar right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded so enthusiastically he almost spilled his tea. “Yeah! Let’s do it!” He blew on his tea, childishly hoping it would cool down faster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool, I think I saw some plastic chairs in the garage. We can pull those out and jam in the yard.” Kuroo shoveled the last of his pancakes into his mouth. He put his fork down and turned to look at the closed door of the tatami room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached for Kuroo’s plate. Sensing him out of the corner of his eye, Kuroo waved Shouyou away. “You already finished the dishes; my fault for being late,” he explained as he stood to wash the plate in the sink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shrugged and went to quietly retrieve his guitar from his shared room. He carefully measured his steps, not wanting to wake Kenma. Normally, he was known to sleep like the dead. He figured it was because he kept chugging along until he crashed. Kenma was known to stay awake for days at a time simply because stopping to sleep was troublesome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guitar secured, Shouyou met Kuroo in the yard. Instead of his preferred electric guitar, Kuroo had an acoustic guitar balanced on his knee. “What have you been working on with Akaashi,” he asked as Shouyu took up the empty chair and pulled his own guitar out of its case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not much, recently. He had an ear worm the other day, but it didn’t really fit any of the lyrics we’ve been writing.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and opened the audio file containing the fragment he had mentioned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo comically bent his ear toward the phone, listening intently. His fingers ghosted along his guitar, imagining the placements, but not committing to playing just yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like that,” he decided. “It’s a bit melancholy, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded his head emphatically. “Yeah, it doesn’t feel like summer at all right? I think that’s why we didn’t end up doing anything with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo picked his fingers along the strings of his guitar, mimicking the musical fragment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi likes sad music, but his lyrics are usually really… cute? If that makes sense,” Shouyou said, playing with the tuning on his own guitar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess mellow doesn’t necessarily mean sad,” Kuroo mused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hummed in ascent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Akaashi make a good songwriting pair, though,” Kuroo admitted. “Your personality is so upbeat, Shouyou, but your lyrics are really introspective.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Nah! I’m just a romantic,” Shouyou confessed, “it’s embarrassing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He plucked at his strings in a funny little cadence. Kuroo listened for a short while before following along with him, twisting and turning the tune as they went. Shouyou liked the way they kept coming back to the original melody he had started. This jam session felt so different from the foundation he provided as the band’s drummer. He felt front and center, in the thick of it all. It made him think about the little flame inside of his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Kuroo,” Shouyou said hesitantly. Their musical conversation fell apart as his fingers slipped on the fret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up, kid?” Kuroo shifted his posture to look at Shouyou better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like the music I write? With Akaashi, I mean,” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course. That’s why we play our songs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking,” Shouyou felt nervous energy building in his gut, but he kept his head level. “I’ve been wondering if I could write a song and-” he took a deep breath- “and perform it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo’s scrunched in confusion. “Isn’t that what we already do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shook his head, “I mean, do you think I could sing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should talk with Aka-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyu interrupted him, embarrassment creeping up through his body, “I know don’t have much experience-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo set his guitar into its thick case, giving their talk his full attention. “To be honest, Shouyou, I don’t know what to say.” He pushed his hand through his messy hair. “You wouldn’t be drumming if you were singing right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou looked away from Kuroo, feeling small under his gaze, “I like how we write music together, with everyone, but a part of me wants to know if I could do it: write a song, get up there and sing it.” The little flame in his heart burned with the desire to know if he could grow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo nodded, his new smile wistful. “You’re crazy, Shouyou. Just looking at you makes me tired. You play the drums, you write lyrics, you help me with the music. What next? Are you gonna learn sound next? The oboe?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you don’t hate my idea,” Shouyou asked, feeling hopeful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo leaned back in his chair, throwing an arm over his eyes as the sun pressed down on him. “We’ll have to talk about it more,” he decided, “and you’ll have to talk to Akaashi about it. He is the singer of the band.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou felt some of the stress slough off his shoulders, but a new weight took its place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a mellow guy,” Kuroo explained, “but I bet he’d have things to say about this… well. You’ve known him longer than me.” He picked his guitar back up and plucked out a new progression. </span>
</p><p><span>“Okay, I’ll talk to him,” he promised. “Let’s get back into it!”</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“Alright, how about this,” Kuroo asked, launching into a bright, jumpy rhythm. </span></p><p>
  <span>To Shouyou, it was forgiveness for being selfish.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou threw himself to the floor of the tatami room with a large, dramatic sigh. “We’re going to be late,” he whined, rolling toward Kenma. He threw an arm out and it whacked Kenma on his shoulder, jostling his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No use in complaining Shouyou,” Kenma sighed. He set his phone down on the table and shoved Shouyou away with him with both hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you must have died,” he guessed as he traveled across the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, thanks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto came down the hall from his room and shook a makeup bag at him. His hair was styled in his typical horns. If he was lucky, it would last through the night, but the headset he wore at the sound booth usually won that battle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou, do you want to wear anything?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll just melt off me,” he answered, shaking his head. With a realization, he sat up from the floor, “wait does that mean you still haven’t done Oikawa’s?” When Bokuto nodded, he flopped back on the floor. “I can’t believe you guys! We’re going to be late!” He yelled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a fucking chill pill, Shouyou!” Oikawa's reply came from the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has a right to be worried, Oikawa,” Kuroo said, or at least Shouyou guessed, since he was eating a banana in the kitchen. Clearer this time, Kuroo told him, “but it’s fine, I always plan for Oikawa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto continued down the hall with the big bag of makeup, but he reappeared with Oikawa pushing him into the tatami room from behind. Like Bokuto’s hair, Oikawa’s was heavily styled. However, his goal was always to create gentle curls, as opposed to a tower of hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The lighting in the bathroom sucks, do it out here, Bokkun,” Oikawa whined. They sat at the other side of the low table, across from Kenma. Oikawa placed a towel between him and Bokuto to protect the delicate flooring from potential disaster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto unzipped the make up bag and dumped its contents onto the towel with an exaggerated flourish. Out came tumbling several different tubes and compacts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What colors are we feeling today,” Bokuto asked, practically bouncing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go cool and dark today, please.” Oikawa closed his eyes and tilted his face toward Bokuto. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou watched as Bokuto layered different liquids and creams on Oikawa’s face. He eyed the powder with suspicion, scared it would drift farther from the towel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bokuto, why did you learn how to do makeup,” Shouyou asked. He knew the story well enough, but he liked to hear it anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, one day in my second year of high school,” Bokuto began, “I was in a group for a project with some girls. They were really flashy, fake lashes when they could get away with it, yeah?” Bokuto looked away from Oikawa to glance at Shouyou. He nodded and Bokuto continued, “well one day one of the girls leaned over the table with her mouth open. I thought she was choking or something, but she just said ‘wow I love your eyelashes! I wish I could put some mascara on them.’ And I said uhhhh I don’t know what that is but as long as it doesn’t hurt you can do whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re terrible at flirting, aren’t you,” Oikawa asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no, I’m an excellent flirt, this wasn’t flirting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, whatever, don’t poke my eye out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto had switched to covering Oikawa’s eyes with brilliant blue eye shadow from a palette that reminded Shouyou of early evenings surrounded by the bitter smell of various paints.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, after school, the gaggle dragged me into the girls’ bathroom and they did my makeup. It was cute,” Bokuto said, grabbing a tissue to dab at the corner of Oikawa’s eye. “After that, I started watching videos on the internet. I don’t really like wearing it much,” he confessed, “but I like doing it on other people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m thankful for those girls, then,” Oikawa said, “we’ll have to include them in the acknowledgments of our first album if we ever get signed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean when we get signed!” Bokuto and Shouyou yelled. “Nice,” they said in tandem and fist bumped over the table. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite Shouyou’s incessant worrying, Of A Feather arrived at Kitaichi 6pm on the dot. Watari was waiting by the backdoor for them. Everyone, including Shouyou, had looked ridiculous on the subway with their guitars and bags of equipment. There had been plenty of stares at Oikawa’s electric blue eyeshadow and Akaashi’s brightly painted lips. Bokuto had preened when a set of college girls complimented Oikawa’s look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The whole group’s here, yes?” Watari gestured widely at the group. “Good. Doors open at seven, and your set begins at eight.” The band nodded as he opened the backdoor for everyone to come into the club. Unlike the night before, the house lights were lit, making the cavernous room seem more empty and lifeless than it was. The dance floor was a void. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the way to the store room, Shouyou saw the bar setting up for the night. Carrying a ridiculous stack of cups was a dark haired young woman wearing glasses. She lifted her head and smiled at Shouyou, pulling the pretty mole by her mouth along for the ride of her smile. Shouyou gave her a small bow before jogging to catch up with the rest of the band. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kuroo,” Shouyou said when he stepped in line with the band’s leader, “the bartender! She had a stack of cups about as long as Kenma.” Kuroo raised his eyebrow and turned his head to try to catch a glimpse of her. “I’m serious!” Shouyou insisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe you, I believe you,” Kuroo said, throwing his hands up in surrender. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They came into the storage room and Watari told them they could keep their bags there. “Who’s the sound man,” he asked. Bokuto raised his hand, his great horned hair swiveling with him. “It’s Bokuto,” Kenma said as a way of introducing the two men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bokuto, I’ll take you to the booth and our man Tanaka, can answer any questions while you set up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the two men left the room, Kenma instantly deflated. He was wearing a different version of last night’s outfit, pretending to be the business man the band hyped him up to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi set down the case of his bass guitar and ruffled Kenma’s hair. “I hope you got plenty of sleep today. It’s going to be a long night,” he told him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey last night,” Kuroo said, talking to Kenma, “did you ask about using a table for merch?” Kenma’s dead eyes met Kuroo’s instead of a verbal answer. “I guess not…” Kuroo sighed. As the awkward pause stretched out, Kenma started to tally the cds and shirts in his several bags. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I’ll go find Watari and ask,” Kuroo decided and he, too, left the storeroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou, Oikawa, and Akaashi began relaying the pieces of Shouyou’s drum kit onto the stage in the club’s main room. As they went back and forth, Bokuto set up the mics and stands all along the stage. An intense looking bald man with different rolls of gaffer tape clipped to his belt helped him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Briefly, Bokuto got into an altercation with Oikawa over the positioning of the keyboard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one’s blocking you, Oikawa,” Bokuto explained, moving the keyboard back to the tape he had laid out to mark it’s position. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can still move it down stage a hair!” Oikawa countered, trying to slide it forward again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And when you complain about feedback screaming at you ‘cause you’re too close to Akaashi’s mic? Are you going to scream at me, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tussle continued until Kuroo snapped and told Oikawa to stop being such a princess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a princess,” Oikawa said with a shrug, “I’m- what was it you called me Shouyou? The Grand King?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou popped his head up from behind the drums he was assembling together. He scrunched up his face in disgust and said, “things said while drunk at an all night karaoke marathon should not be held against me.” He went back into a crouch and finished the last touches of the drums. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The club’s sound man, Tanaka, wandered over to Shouyou. His features were sharp, his smile shark like. It startled Shouyou for a moment, and he tried to hide his surprise when the man spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need a mic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shook his head. “No thank you; I don’t do any backing vocals,” he explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tanaka nodded, he bent to look around at Shouyou’s kit. “We’ll set up a couple mics over here in case we gotta boost your drums. It’s a weeknight, so maybe we won’t need it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you so much,” Shouyou responded as he pulled his drumsticks out of his back pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be so formal, kid,” Tanaka said. He waved a quick bye, and Shouyou watched as he leapt off the stage and wandered over to the bar. Tanaka leaned against the high counter asking the beautiful bartender a question. She mildly threatened him with the soda nozzle. Shouyou was scared she was going to spray him, but Tanaka quickly launched into some explanation. Thankfully, she set the dispenser down and fished out some water bottles from under the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tanaka thanked her and climbed back up the stage. He handed a bottle to Bokuto and gave one to Shouyou. He thanked Tanaka and watched as Oikawa tried to steal Bokuto’s bottle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She almost ended your life,” Shouyou said, instead of directly asking what Tanaka had said to upset her. Next to him, Tanaka laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t phrase my request as well as I meant to,” he admitted, but didn’t elaborate. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the set up rushed by as time counted down to Kitaichi’s doors opening. Despite their quarrels, Bokuto touched up Oikawa’s makeup when he asked. Shouyou even allowed Bokuto to line his eyes with the red liner he had thrown in his to go bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Shouyou went to check on Kenma at the merch table he and Kuroo had set up, he asked, “well, how does it look?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma hummed at the bright liner appreciatively, but he warned, “it’s going to be all over your face about three songs in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shrugged, “I figured, but Bokuto was really happy I let him do it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if we hadn’t started the band, he would have been a makeup artist,” Kenma wondered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou tucked his hand under his chin in a faux deep thought. “Then at least he would have an excuse for that hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his seat, Kenma leaned on the table and covered his face with his hands, causing a few cds to go sliding. “He does that stupid hair, and every damn time, the headset always destroys it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly appearing, Oikawa asked what they were talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The futility of man,” Kenma whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or at least one man’s hair,” Shouyou offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a theory about that actually,” Oikawa said, a mischievous grin slowly pulling into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Intrigued, Shouyou replied, “Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he does his hair and lets it get destroyed because Akaashi likes it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What even,” Kenma said, not buying it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just my opinion. Guess the two of you wouldn’t understand,” Oikawa decided, leaving the table after dealing the killing blow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma sucked on a tooth and spat out, “like he can talk. Bastard didn’t even realize his best friend was in love with him for a decade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People are dense, I guess,” Shouyou mumbled. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>After Bokuto did the final sound check, Of a Feather climbed onto the stage. Shouyou took a seat at his drums and strained to see the crowd. It was a weeknight, but the crowd was similar in size to a Friday night at the Cat’s Paw. A few welcoming cheers and claps were sprinkled throughout the club. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo threw the strap of his guitar over his shoulder and said into the mic, “good evening, we’re Of A Feather. We’re from Sendai, and we’re happy to spend the summer here in Osaka. We can talk more later, but for now, let’s party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo and Akaashi strummed a repeating line, the bass making Shouyou vibrate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2vh3fCzas7WUjEVkjBrGP4?si=B_SrTSBhT6y7Df-wB4eQfg">Wake up, make a fuss and spill your guts for me</a>,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Akaashi sang. A moment later,  Oikawa colored the song at the keys. Shouyou waited, counting the seconds, trying to be patient as the song was constructed around him. The stage lights were low, anticipating his bold entrance into the song. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With this low light, he could see the bartender had been joined by a coworker. The man behind the bar was tall and broad, his presence taking up all the space behind the counter. The man lifted his head as Akaashi began the next line. Shouyou could have sworn he could see the blue of his eyes all the way from the stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This time, get it right or you’re history.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shouyou smacked the snare drum hard. He tensed for a moment, but he shook away his absurd thought. He started up the kick drum, and Akaashi continued, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>eat your heart out, we won’t stop now, bleeding our blood on the drums, sinking our teeth in the heart of the sun.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you’ve enjoyed the night so far,” Oikawa breathed hard into his mic as they came to the end of their first set for the night, “we’re going to be taking a small break, but we’ll be back with some more covers and some our own stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been a great crowd!” Akaashi said as he removed the strap of his bass from his shoulder, equally out of breath. The crowd gave a good cheer as they waved a goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou descended the stairs at the back of the stage on shaky legs. He didn’t dare look back at the bar until he was on level ground again. His eyes searched for the man that had been there, but only the beautiful bartender was behind the counter. She caught him staring and waved him over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dug out some ice-cold water bottles from under the counter again, sliding them toward him. Hydration excited Shouyou, and he enthusiastically thanked her. He tried to take it slow, but the shock of the opening song and the following set had left him nearly dizzy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t hurt yourself,” she said. Her voice was quiet and full of concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou gave a self-deprecating laugh, “I’m trying not to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give these to your bandmates, yeah,” she told him, pushing more water bottles toward him. He piled them into his arms and thanked her over and over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found Oikawa surrounded by a gaggle of ladies asking him about his intense makeup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to get washed out by those lights, you know? I’d end up looking like a ghost out there,” he explained. The ladies erupted into compliments about his handsome face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou tried to worm his way into the circle to hand Oikawa one of the water bottles. The rest slipped out of his arms with a cascade of thumps on the floor. The girls all jumped a few steps away from Oikawa, giving Shouyou space to give him the one bottle that had avoided the fall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, Shouyou,” Oikawa asked, his voice too sweet. He was still charming the women that surrounded them. In a flash, all the girls began to pick up the fallen bottles and pile them back into his arms. He thanked them and turned to head to the sound booth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dyed hair makes him look so wild,” Shouyou heard one of the girls say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not dyed,’ he shouted over his shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the sound booth, he found Bokuto, Akaashi, Kuroo, and Tanaka. Shouyou distributed the remaining bottles of water, saving one for Kenma at the merch table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou! Your eyeliner lived,” Bokuto yelled when he spotted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did Kiyoko give you these,” Tanaka asked. When he nodded, Tanaka said, “isn’t she the coolest? She’s the best part of working here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw her mixing some drinks before the set began,” said Kuroo. “She’s really skilled.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou jumped up in excitement, “I saw her carrying a stack of cups taller than her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tanaka gave a hearty laugh, his chest puffing out with pride. “That’s our Kiyoko! She hates having to make multiple trips, so she’s basically perfected her balance.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all turned toward the bar to watch Kiyoko methodically craft a line of drinks. Bokuto let out an appreciative whistle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tanaka turned back to Kuroo and asked, “So you said you guys were from Sendai?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo recapped his water and said, “Kinda. We perform there a lot, and some of the members live there. Our hometown is a little further north, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No kidding! You know,” Tanaka said pointing toward the bar, “one of our bartenders is from around those parts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sendai’s not that small of a city,” Shouyou squeaked. The thought he had earlier when they started the set crept back in. It was silly how he could hear his heartbeat reverberating through his body. It nearly hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We might have some mutual friends,” Akaashi mused, handing his water to Bokuto. He sat down at the open chair in front of the booth’s controls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll introduce you guys after the second set, then. He’s a little hard to catch, but I’m sure he’ll be interested in meeting you guys.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto threw an arm around Kuroo, trying to steal the rest of his water. Kuroo smacked him away. “What’s the guy’s name,” Bokuto asked, his arms flailing all over Kuroo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tanaka confirmed what Shouyou had already guessed. “Kageyama.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had tried to brush away the possibility. From the stage, it could have been a trick of the light. Now, the reality crashed into him, like his heartbeat crashed in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto stopped antagonizing Kuroo to look at Shouyou at the edge of the booth. Akaashi’s tired eyes widened in shock and concern. Kuroo noticed Bokuto’s sudden stillness, but he didn’t seem to understand what had just happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou-” Bokuto started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I better go check on Kenma! If we’re all here, he’s probably miserable!” Shouyou ran away from the sound booth and his bandmates. He was embarrassed that even the mention of Kageyama’s name had caused Bokuto and Akaashi to worry. He had never told anyone why he and Kageyama had stopped being friends. It was a shameful secret he kept close to his chest. He was ashamed that he could have been so wrong in high school. He had read between lines that weren’t there and constructed a whole fantasy with Kageyama in the middle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing he wanted to do was see him. They had stopped speaking in the weeks leading up to graduation. There had been no texts, no invites to lunch, no crossing the hallway between their club rooms. He had accepted that distance; it was his fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nearly ran to the merch table. Kenma looked tired and sullen, his cash box open in front of him. Shouyou crashed into Kenma, shoving the water bottle into his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kenma you’ll never believe-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I get this,” a customer said from the other side of the table. Shouyou’s body tensed before processing who had spoken. Slowly, his eyes climbed from the cd in the man’s hand, up his black short-sleeve shirt, and finally up to his face. It was thinner, the lines of his jawline and cheekbones sharper than they had been when he was a teenager. But the shape of his mouth was the little circle Shouyou had fallen in love with in his first year. Kageyama’s dark blue eyes were shaking slightly in the club lighting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment stretched around them, the merch table turning into a bubble containing just the two of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except for Bokuto and Akaashi, Kenma was the person who knew the most about Kageyama. Kuroo and Kenma had gone to a different high school, so he had never seen Kageyama before. He knew only what Shouyou had told him during nights under the kotatsu in Kenma’s apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Kenma said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.” Shouyou threw his arm over Kenma’s. “He doesn’t need to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma titled his head in surprise. “Oh, is he a friend of yours? You’re always making friends quick, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked like he was about to speak, and Shouyou beat him to it, “he’s a bartender here. They’ve been giving us free waters all night!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s cool. Thanks,” Kenma said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s face crumpled, but he nodded at Kenma and said, “thanks for the cd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama left the table. Shouyou felt his limbs turn to jello as he sat on the floor next to Kenma’s chair. Not caring about how dirty the floor was, he let the table shield him from the rest of the club.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was kind of weird,” Kenma mumbled, pulling out his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou rested his head on his knees, curling up. “That was Kageyama.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Kenma’s phone clatter onto the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well fuck.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. If Only For A Second</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Help me make a wish, Kageyama.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading the next chapter of this little fic!!!</p><p>Here's the <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4QKC0u7bWlC4ZMoeQy5VYL?si=o4FSdGsYSmOrQ244y6c6YA">Kagehina playlist</a> again so you can listen along if you want!<br/>This chapter is named after <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/0TrvmvJngRUlCaBtt8VPRs?si=ELWXyGgZSYSRztlw6hJzkQ">Summer by Imagine Dragons</a>.</p><p>See you next week for chapters 5 &amp;6, and the after that we're going down to one chapter a week.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Have you thought about what you’re going to do for the background,” Shouyou asked while they sat in the art clubroom. The brace that held Shouyou’s arm in place while his collarbone healed prevented him from doing much in his own club, so he found himself across the hall more often than not. They were seated at the collapsable table that spent most of its time folded against a wall since the easels took up so much room when the whole club was present. During this lunch break, the two of them were alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Kagyeyama admitted, lifting his head to look at him through his bangs. He twirled the pen in his hand in a fluid motion, deep in thought. “I guess if I can’t think of something soon, I can just do a solid background.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As far as Shouyou could tell, Kageyama had selected his canvas and continued to refine his sketch, but he had yet to commit to actually starting the painting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou tilted his head, trying to get his brain to move around in his skull. He couldn’t think of an idea to offer, but he said, “Won’t that be boring? I don’t want my painting to be boring!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama sat up straight and playfully threw his pen at him, which he dodged with some effort. A small twinge of pain stabbed him, but he managed not to wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your painting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This face has a brand to maintain,” Shouyou explained. “And, you said you were going to submit it for some contests, right?” He bent over to pick up the pen and blindly launched it back at Kageyama. When he returned to the top side, Kageyama had his arms crossed. The pen clattered on to the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Looking petulant, Kageyama said, “Yeah. The upperclassmen are really hoping we can get a couple of pieces judged before the cultural festival.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s barely July, you’ve got plenty of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Depending on the contest, it can take a few weeks for the judges to sift through everything.” Kageyama picked the pen back up from the table and started twirling it again. “So, the sooner I get this done, the better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou clumsily stood up from the table, getting ready to leave the club room to head back to his class before the bell rang. He didn’t want to get jostled in the crowded hallways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get that,” he told Kageyama as he tried to one handedly collect his lunch trash. Kageyama rushed to piled the garbage in Shouyou’s arms. “Thanks,” he said and continued as they walked out of the club room, “if you can’t come up with something by just sitting around, you need to go out! Right? Live life!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s face soured. He said, “I need to work on my art.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou mocked him, “‘I need to work on my art,’ what the hell, man, admit you’re in a slump. I’ve seen you draw a total of like, two lines in the last week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama exhaled harshly out his nose, obviously annoyed with his (correct) observation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m only telling the truth. You need to go outside,” Shouyou continued to argue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama didn’t fight him at his usual lightning pace, making Shouyou stop short outside of his classroom. “You can go out, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I can go out, my parents aren’t that strict,” Kageyama shot back, but Shouyou could tell he was uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then we should go to the Tanabata festival. It starts this weekend,” he suggested, looking away from Kageyama and toward the closed door of his classroom. “Maybe the atmosphere will shake your little artist brain. All your good ideas will fizz up and rise to the top.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a can of soda,” Kageyama said, opening the door for Shouyou. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, I say we’re going to the festival!”</span>
</p><p><span>Kageyama relented</span> <span>, “fine, but you should buy me some takoyaki.”</span></p><p>
  <span>He was tempted to throw his trash at Kageyama. “We’re going for </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, why should I have to treat you to takoyaki? Fat chance!” He used his good shoulder to slide the door closed on Kageyama and his stupid requests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Saturday evening, they met at the gate of the temple complex housing the massive festival. Shouyou’s mother had been hesitant to let him go out while his collarbone was still healing, but he had promised up, down, and sideways that he would be careful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finally gave in, she had offered to help Shouyou dress up in a yukata. Afraid of attracting attention on the bus, he had refused her offer. Instead, he opted for a dark green v-neck and a loose pair of jeans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After leaving the bus, Shouyou saw he was a few minutes early. He slowly made his way to their meeting place. A piece of music Konoha had been playing on his guitar in the club room the day before repeated in his head. <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/1u1PzGnsWKjAwSZ9Rg1kjD?si=d_7rPk7URHWkx3B6ANZIqg">It was a melancholy tune</a>; it made the guitar sound like it was crying. Shouyou liked the piece, it’s tempo slowly rocking. It made him miss making music with his club. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spotted Kageyama standing awkwardly by the main gate where they had agreed to meet. Unlike Shouyou, Kageyama was in a yukata. It was a similar shade of blue as he eyes with an obi of deep navy. Not yet noticing Shouyou, it looked like his face had forgotten to wear it’s standard pinched expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou walked as fast as the brace on his left arm would let him. Kageyama saw him approaching and gave him a quick little wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t expect you to dress up,” Shouyou said as a greeting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s mouth remembered how to pout, his ears tinting pink. “I thought you of all people would dress up,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shrugged with his good shoulder. “I’m easily embarrassed by grannies on the bus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh, I thought you’d be the shameless type.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou lifted an eyebrow, taking an exaggerated look at Kageyama’s outfit. “Evidence suggests you might be the shameless one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On what planet, dumbass?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They started walking down the main thoroughfare of the festival, surrounded on all sides by noise and lights. The streamers nearly covered the darkening sky from view. Lanterns dotted the landscape, creating pockets of soft light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou had made the poor decision of skipping dinner so he would be on time to meet Kageyama. Now, his stomach screamed at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I still owe you that takoyaki,” he asked, looking around for a booth that looked promising. “Even though we’re here to help you,” he added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone bumped Shouyou hard on his bad arm, and he couldn’t hide the resulting pain. Reflexively, he shrank in on himself. The person who hit him kept walking without registering what had really happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama grabbed Shouyou’s good shoulder and switched places with him so the braced shoulder would be between the two of them instead. Shouyou looked everywhere but Kageyama’s face. He was sure he would see the guilt painted across his expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guilt manifested in different ways. Despite the way they verbally picked each other apart, Kageyama was always paying attention to Shouyou’s discomfort as he healed. He opened doors, but let Shouyou close them. He never offered to carry things for Shouyou, but he always double checked that Shouyou could do it. It was an awkward kindness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Takoyaki,” Shouyou asked again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama craned his neck over the crowd and selected a booth. As they walked, Kageyama made sure their pace synched perfectly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the booth, they ordered two sets of takoyaki: Shouyou’s with all of the toppings and Kageyama’s without fish flakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Shouyou managed to turn his arm to hold the takoyaki, he poked fun at Kageyama. “What do you mean you got yours without fish flakes? Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not as delicious as everyone says it is! Give me the sauce, and I’m good to go.” Kageyama popped a whole takoyaki ball into his mouth for emphasis. His eyes only bugged out a little bit from the heat. Shouyou considered it a win.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They wandered further into the temple grounds, the beautiful patterns of the festival’s patron’s yukatas dazzled Shouyou. He vaguely wondered how Kageyama would have reacted if he had worn one. Would he have laughed at him? Or made any comment at all?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Kageyama. He had his eyes trained on a booth with a game for catching goldfish. Shouyou kept the laugh in his throat, imperceptible amongst the cacophonous festival. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s face had the look of anticipation and curiosity, his brows lifted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to catch some goldfish after we finish our takoyaki,” Shouyou asked, nudging him with his good arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama shrugged, hiding his excitement well. “You need two hands for that dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou rolled his eyes and said, “Damn, my whole night is ruined. I come to festivals just to catch fish that will die in three days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not really, geez, Kageyama,” Shouyou grunted before eating his last piece of takoyaki. “But we should do it anyway. I bet you suck at it,” he tried to say around the batter and octopus in his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you think that?” Kageyama took Shouyou’s trash just this once and threw it into the trash can next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou brought his hand up to his chin to pretend to think. “It’s the most statistically probable answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you even know what that means?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou socked Kageyama before grabbing a hold of his yukata sleeve and dragging him toward the goldfish booth. “Doesn’t matter ‘cause I’m right.” Shouyou let go of the sleeve to reach into his pocket to free a few hundred-yen coins to pay for the game, but Kageyama paid the man first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You bought the takoyaki, I guess I can pay for a couple rounds,” he explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t even play, like you said. Though, it sounds like fun, watching you miss all the fish.” He knew he sucked at catching goldfish; he just wasn’t certain if Kageyama was equally terrible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama turned to the booth worker, “can I hold the bowl for him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The booth worker shrugged and told them to do what they wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? Now, you can play,” Kageyama said, not looking at Shouyou. Shouyou purposely kept his eyes trained on the pool of fish, not wanting to see that guilty face ever again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since you paid, you can go first,” Shouyou insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch how it’s done, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Briefly, Shouyou thought about how truly insufferable Kageyama was. Then, Kageyama used the stupidly thin paper catcher to scoop up a fish on the first try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve gotta be kidding me? Are you scamming me, Kageyama,” Shouyou shrieked in disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dumbass, I’m the one that paid. Now, shut up so I can concentrate!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t yell, meanie-yama, you’ll scare the fish more than your face already does,” Shouyou shot back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The small fight didn’t phase Kageyama as he scooped a second fish with the same stupid paper catcher. LIfe wasn’t fair, he was good at drawing, painting, volleyball, and now catching fish. What kind of skill is that for the gods to give him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the third try, Kageyama’s catcher finally disintegrated, probably because those things weren’t really designed to actually work. Kageyama moved over to let Shouyou crouch in front of the pool of orange and yellow fish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The booth worker handed Shouyou a catcher of his own, If Shouyou had both arms available, he would roll up his sleeves. But, he had neither long sleeves nor two usable hands. He made himself feel better by sticking his tongue out at Kageyama.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama recoiled and rolled his eyes. Which was enough encouragement for Shouyou to set about selecting his aquatic target in the pool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the goldfish was swimming apart from the others. “Alright,” he said as a warning, “be ready with that bowl. I’m not letting you mess this up for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama made a “tch” noise as Shouyou shoved the catcher into the pool. For a millisecond, he felt the weight of the fish in the catcher. Then, as one would expect, the weight broke the flimsy catcher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dammit, I swear I had that- don’t you dare laugh at me, Kageyama!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama shut his mouth into a line, but the corners of it were still ticked up. “You’re so forceful,” Kageyama said, “it’s not a snare drum, you idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou felt his embarrassment and frustration mingle together in his throat. “Shut up, I’m going to try again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shouyou was handed another catcher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Shouyou attacked the pool sideways. Once more, the goldfish was momentarily held aloft by Shouyou’s quick hand. He gave a triumphant whoop until this catcher, too, was torn apart before he could lift the fish into the bowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That one was all you, Kageyama! You were too slow with the bowl!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t blame me for your dumbassery,” Kageyama spat out, moving the bowl to the hand away from Shouyou.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not even a word!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure it is! Look, you’ve gotta-” Kageyama lifted his free hand and gave it a fluid twist- “do it like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s face scrunched up in disbelief. “You are the worst teacher ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama narrowed his eyes at him, and readied the bowl. “Fine,” he said, “stay sucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou accepted the last catcher from the booth worker and bent his head down to the shallow plastic pool. Once more, he selected a straggler from the group. More slowly this final time, he slid the catcher into the water. Trying to imitate the flick of Kageyama’s wrist, Shouyou lifted the fish and flung it toward the bowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the fish splashed securely into the bowl, Shouyou lifted his good arm in victory.”Hey, look!” he said, pointing at the fish. ‘I caught it! Kageyama are you looking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, Kageyama was looking at him, something close to a smile trying to tug at the corners of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama shook his head and handed the bowl to the booth worker. “Dumbass, I caught it in the bowl with your shoddy throw.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou scoffed, “my throw was excellent! Pure athleticism.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama rolled his eyes and accepted the bagged fish from the booth worker. He waited for Shouyou to stand back up before handing over his fish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t really think about what I would do with the fish once I caught it,” Shouyou admitted as they continued down the line of booths. Kageyama hummed in agreement, caught up in his own thoughts. Probably also fish related thoughts, Shouyou figured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The booths began to thin, but the crowd stayed thick and enclosed the pair on all sides. Kageyama stuck to Shouyou’s side. Every time someone bumped into either of them, there was a tense moment of fear. After silently assuring themselves that Shouyou was fine, the tension would dip, until it reared its head again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou saw the way that Kageyama’s shoulders were tight with worry. His own shoulder was beginning to ache, his pain medicine wearing thin. It left him in a bit of a fog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> After someone slammed into Kageyama with enough force to make him lightly brush against Shouyou’s injured shoulder, Kageyama had thrown an arm around him.  He pushed Shouyou out of the crowd, saying, “I think I saw a bench over there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kageyama’s firm grip dug in, He guided them to that bench. They sat down as a unit. A moment passed, but Kageyama didn’t let go. His face was dark, and his eyes seemed far away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou caught his breath and his bearings as they sat together. Now that they were sitting, the careful space Kageyama had created to keep Shouyou’s shoulder safe was gone. Instead, Kageyama’s side was flushed against it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kageyama.” He desperately wanted to wiggle out from under Kageyama’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the sound of his name, Kageyama jumped slightly. When he saw Shouyou was still pulled to his side, he released him and crossed his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought we were glued together for a second there.” Shouyou tried to laugh, but it just sounded tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama turned his head to look in the opposite direction, but Shouyou saw the tips of his ears were pink from the embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou leaned his head against the bench. The bright lights of the festival obscured all but the brightest of stars. They dotted the sky like scattered sparks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, though,” he said to the sky. “I didn’t really think it would be this crowded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably shouldn’t have come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou lifted his head from the back of the bench. He reached over to punch Kageyama. “What, are you not having fun? You got free takoyaki and kicked my butt at catching fish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama turned back to him. He was wearing the guilty face Shouyou had been dreading. The first time he saw it, when he returned to school after his short stay in the hospital, it had pricked his heart sharp like a needle unexpectedly going through a fleshy finger. As they navigated their new friendship, with its unspoken rules, Shouyou had hoped he would never have to see that crumpled face ever again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked like he was going to apologize. Quickly, Shouyou looked for a distraction, anything. Across the grounds was a tree covered in scraps of paper of all colors. They were soft and muted in the artificial light, mostly whites, pinks, and purples. People were crowded around the tree, writing their wishes on those slips of paper and tying them to its thin branches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hinata-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shot up from the bench and ran toward the crowd. As he ran, he heard Kageyama in pursuit. He pumped his legs and arms despite the dull pain growing sharper with every step. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped as he reached the fantastic tree. He turned to face Kageyama, plastering a smile to his face. Kageyama looked from him to the tree and back again, and the festival lights behind him bobbed in the summer wind. The shadows it created danced across Kageyama’s brilliantly blue eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou pointed at the tree behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help me make a wish, Kageyama.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The first week of summer vacation, Shouyou was cleared to stop using the brace. Until that moment, he had tried very hard not to look at his healing skin. When he was in the shower, he held back from touching that stretch of skin, afraid he’d press down too hard on the bone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, he stared at his reflection, seeing the violent pink of the incision scar for the first time as the bathroom mirror fogged up. Lightly, he pressed his finger tip to it. The skin was unbelievably smooth against his finger. It didn’t feel like his own body. He realized something with a start and pressed down a little harder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He arrived at school earlier than he had planned. The band club had agreed to meet for a couple hours every morning during the summer break to stay sharp and to keep practicing for the cultural festival. He was excited to finally be back behind the drums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he ran up to the club room door, he found that it was still locked. He stood at the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet. As he waited for the upperclassmen, he started to tap a light beat on his collarbone. The hollow beat on his chest comforted him. He leaned up against the wall and saw the lights were on in the art club room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slid the door open with more force than necessary. The resulting boom didn’t phase him. He knew there was only one person who would be here as early as him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At an easel lit by the sunlight coming through his favorite window, Kageyama sat. In his hand was a thin brush, and his eyes were narrowed at the ruckus at the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kageyama!” Shouyou bounded up to him, undoing the buttons of his gakuran and then his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama jumped at the invasion of space. “What are you doing?” He asked. After the initial shock of suddenly opening his shirt, Kageyama looked at Shouyou’s liberated left arm. “Your brace-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I got the a-okay! The doctor says it looks fine,” he explained. He peeled back his undershirt to reveal the bright pink scar on his collarbone. “More importantly,” he said, “look! It’s so weird right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s face scrunched up in disgust. “You came in here to show me your gross scar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded, then shook his head. “Yes. no. Yes! But also,” he grabbed Kageyama’s free hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still disgusted, Kageyama pulled his hand back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kageyama, stop being a baby,” Shouyou told him, but he didn’t try to grab him again. “I found out this morning when I was washing up!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Found out what,” Kageyama asked, finally putting the paintbrush down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t feel anything. On the scar I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha?” he didn’t believe him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you touch it, I won’t know!” Shouyou covered his eyes with the hand not holding his shirt open. “Touch it! I won’t look! But lightly, I can feel the pressure if you really press down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not able to see him, Shouyou heard Kageyama say, “then that means you can feel it, dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, Kageyama, just touch the scar!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his sight swam in darkness, he heard Kageyama shift on his stool. He waited to feel the pads on Kageyama’s long fingers against his skin, but no sensation ever came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi, are you-” he began to say, but he heard voices excitedly yelling from the hallway connecting their two club rooms. His eyes still covered, he heard Kageyama’s stool screech against the linoleum floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou unshuttered his sight and saw Kageyama at his easel, back to using the thin paintbrush. His other hand was a white fist against his leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto’s voice bounced up the hall again. Quickly, Shouyou buttoned his shirt back up, but left his gakuran open. His hands were shaking a little, but he didn’t understand why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you working on the portrait,” he asked to distract himself. He felt his cheeks flush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ever since the festival, Kageyama had become more secretive about the project. He didn’t allow Shouyou to see the portrait’s progress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou had done his best to respect grumpy Kageyama’s wishes, but today felt like a day for revelations. He leaned into Kageyama’s space and wasn’t pushed away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, wow,” he said, a ball forming in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the canvas, his doppelganger smiled back at him, like it had in the sketch. The shadow over his face made the smile into a secret, something was hiding in the lifted corners of his mouth. His eyes were dull in the lighting looking down at the viewer. The background was still blank, but Kageyama’s palette beside him was full of pinks and purples.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not done yet,” Kageyama blurted out as the silence deepened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s-” Shouyou stopped. He looked away from the painting. Kageyama was watching him with the open expression that surfaced rarely. He was waiting for Shouyou to say something, anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s amazing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not done,” Kageyama said again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nudged him, “then you better get back to work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The band club practiced all summer long. Akaashi was scared of Shouyou hurting himself with aggressive drumming, so he convinced Konoha to teach Shouyou how to play the guitar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his time away, the calluses on his fingers had weakened into barely anything at all. Reforming them was a satisfying type of pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he rebuilt his stamina. He wanted to recapture the couple of months he had been the band’s rock to stand on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the new term began in September, they created their setlist for November’s cultural festival. They planned to play five songs, keeping the set tight and engaging. They had two original instrumental pieces planned and three covers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>During lunch their first day back, Kageyama and Shouyou sat together in the band club room. As the deadline for submitting pieces for the city art competition approached, the art club room had shifted from a calm haven to a ship losing boards in a storm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be working on my painting,” Shouyou asked when they finished eating, Konoha’s guitar in his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama finished his milk box and said, “I already submitted it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you didn’t show it to me?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama shrugged, “you were busy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou tightened his grip on the borrowed guitar. “I was literally across the hall from you everyday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t come visit me either,” Kageyama huffed, sliding his bento box back into his book bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were busy,” Shouyou said back to him, whining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truth was, he had been too embarrassed to cross the hall after forcing Kageyama to touch his scar, or at least he thought Kageyama had touched his scar. He couldn’t tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been so excited to show Kageyama his discovery that he didn’t stop to think how the evidence of the fall from the roof would hurt Kageyama. Shouyou didn’t want to make him feel guilty about it all the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, there was the strange feeling he had felt when he had thought the upperclassmen were going to walk in on them. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, just showing his friend something cool. So why had Shouyou felt shaken and embarrassed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have the answer. So the hallway had become an ocean between them the remainder of the summer break. It wasn’t until Kageyama had come to Shouyou’s classroom today that he had begun to feel normal again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the term continued, the pair jumped back and forth between the art club room and the band club room. Shouyou liked listening to the frequently panicked Moniwa complain about studying for college entrance exams. When they ate with the band club, Konoha enjoyed teasing Kageyama for always having a charcoal stain or two on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The results of the city art competition were scheduled to be released the day before the cultural festival. Kageyama told him when the painting was returned to the school, but by then they were both so wrapped up with their clubs and class exhibits that they didn’t have time to look at it together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s class had decided to do a bake sale. He stayed up late several nights in a row with his mother and his little sister. Together, they made brownies, chocolate covered pretzels, and shortbread cookies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he unveiled them to his classmates the day before the festival, they insisted he must have cheated and asked his mother to make them for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They built the bake sale stands from scratch. Shouyou even painted one of the signs. When he was finished, he pulled out his flip phone to send a picture of it to Kageyama. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thinking about joining the art club, do you think Moniwa will take me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He typed, dried paint flaking off his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s reply didn’t come until he unlocked his bike from the rack later that evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You misspelled shortbread.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou worked the opening shift of his class’s bake sale booth. Sleep had evaded him all night, so he had arrived early to try to fix the sign he had messed up. The repaint still wasn’t dry, but it was high and away from hands and accidental touches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As people began to show up for the festival, Shouyou’s shortbread cookies began to sell faster and faster. He tucked the pride of his hard work close to his heart. It was a balm against the anxiety creeping up on him. After his shift, the band club planned to warm up in their club room before their scheduled sound check in the gymnasium. It would be their first performance since Shouyou had joined the club in April.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were scheduled to go on after Kageyama’s class performed Sleeping Beauty. In passing, Kageyama had told him that he got out of being cast as the prince by offering to oversee the creation of set pieces. His small fame as an artist had triumphed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think that’s-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has to be, who else has hair like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices made Shouyou look around for who was speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it’s dyed?” It was a trio of junior high school girls waiting in line to buy some baked goods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to stop himself, he said, “it’s not dyed!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girls jumped and covered their faces, whispering to each other again. They quietly bought their cookies and left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All throughout his shift, whispers followed him. As he collected payment from people, he found himself locking eyes with strangers staring at him from the path. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to one of his classmates and asked, “do I have something on my face?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just your face,” the classmate responded with a shrug, and they went back to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The class representative came to relieve Shouyou close to noon. Finally free, Shouyou ran to the school’s main lobby, racing to meet his club. As he stepped inside, he saw that the art club’s submissions to the city competition had been displayed in two rows. The colors rushed past him as he weaved quickly through the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt pinned down by the stares that had been plaguing him all day. He wanted to yell and ask everyone if he had grown a second head overnight. He tried to push through a throng of people, but they were immovable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” he addressed the huddle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally seeing him, the group of students, parents, and teachers opened for him. He gave them a small bow as an apology as he passed through them, but a shock of orange in the corner of his eye made him stop and look at what they had been crowded around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Kageyama’s finished portrait of Shouyou. The shadows around his painted face hung thick like smoke around him. His eyes and hair glowed in the darkness, and the light of the tree seemed like a halo. The pink, purple, and white papers were vibrant like fireworks where they hung off the tree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama had painted him in the green shirt Shouyou had worn to the festival, but the neck was more open than it had been in reality. Peeking out of the collar was the bright pink scar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw Kageyama’s small artist’s bio that contained only Kageyama’s name, age, and the name of the piece. A blue first place ribbon hung beside it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>WISH</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Warmth flowed out from Shouyou’s chest, reaching the top of his head and the tips of his fingers. Suddenly, he wanted to be alone, not surrounded by strangers that only saw his bright hair and the Tanabata tree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran through the halls; teachers and stuffy upperclassmen screamed at him to slow down. He paid them no heed and kept his speed up until he reached the safety of the hall that connected their club rooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned against the wall opposite the art club. He stared at the sliver of a window in the door. The fluorescent lights were turned off, signaling the room was empty of its students.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou slid down the wall and covered his burning face with his hands. The painting was a dream. It created an alternate reality where Kageyama allowed himself to be absolved of the guilt that had haunted them all summer. By omitting the brace, Kageyama had created a fantasy where Shouyou had been beckoning him out of fun, instead of the truth. The truth was he didn’t have the words to prove to Kageyama that he was forgiven. By omitting the brace, the secret stayed between the two of them. The only hint was the bright pink scar, an indelible mark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He removed his hands from his face, breathing deeply. As he counted his breaths, he tapped the scarred collarbone, hidden under his shirt, with the tips of his fingers. The heat in his cheeks receded, but his gut was still swaying back and forth between elation and dread.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi, Konoha, and Bokuto came down the hall. They saw Shouyou in his daze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you that nervous,” Konoha asked, giving him a good shake while Akaashi unlocked the club room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to be worried about,” Bokuto said, puffing out his chest. He threw an arm around Akaashi as soon as they were inside. “Imagine if you were Akaashi, you’d have to get up there and sing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like that part.” Akaashi pushed Bokuto’s arm off of him and unlatched the case holding his bass guitar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too scary for me!” Bokuto said again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you’re hiding at the keys,” Akaashi decided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi!”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were finished warming up, they made their way down to the gym. They peered into the blackness and waited for the lights of the play to come up. Was Kageyama in the gym? Was he hidden by the makeshift backstage?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cast took their bows and the main lights of the gym came up. The small band club entered. They carried what remained of their gear after yesterday’s load in: Akaashi’s bass and Konoha’s guitar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s class moved their props and sets to the “backstage.” They would dismantle everything later; now it was time to enjoy the festival to its fullest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The band club plugged in as they cleared out. The seats in the gymnasium emptied and refilled as the time for their performance drew near. While tightening his snare drum, he saw Moniwa take a seat. Next to him was Kageyama, looking equal parts annoyed and tired. They locked eyes, and Shouyou gave his friend a shy wave. Kageyama nodded in return. On the other hand, Moniwa waved enthusiastically with both of his arms. Shouyou gave his own nod to Moniwa, unsure if he could get away with leaving such an over the top hello unanswered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou darted all over the temporary stage. Like he had earlier in the day, he noticed people staring at him, talking about him. He wondered why the attention didn’t feel as good as sitting for Kageyama’s sketches or even being praised by the upperclassmen. It was like seeing his reflection in a funhouse mirror. He wasn’t really seeing himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights of the gym dimmed, and Akaashi spoke into his microphone, “We’re the band club! Thanks for coming to see us today!” Not particularly verbose, Akaashi nodded to Konoha who began strumming a bright chord progression. Shouyou rolled on his snare, a steady wave of crescendos and decrescendos. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi’s voice glided over the music, sometimes dipping below the ocean they created. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“<a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/7igZ6W4e6PWt9pSfCGomV1?si=lDERYJKqQ_uio23hGG1mpQ">Got what’s left, lost my rights when I was young, taken by the ones I trust, before I knew of love</a></span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of the set, the bright lights came back on. Shouyou looked for Kageyama, but the seat next to Moniwa was empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart sank in his chest. He was hoping to see Kageyama. He wanted to talk to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Konoha’s friend, Washio, helped Shouyou disassemble the drum kit and carry it back to the club room. Everyone carried a piece or two, with Washio carrying the massive kick drum on his shoulder like it was nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Shouyou left the club room after putting the set back together, he saw that the art club room lights were on. Hoping to find his friend, he slowly slid the door open and stuck his head inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama had his back to the door. He was staring at the torii gate piece that hung on the wall in the same place it did at the start of the school year. Shouyou fully entered the room and shut the door softly behind him. He was about to call out to Kageyama, to yell at him for leaving in the middle of his set. He stopped when he saw Kageyama grind the palms of his hands into his eyes. He stood there and took a shuddering breath. When he dropped his hands from his face, Shouyou just said his name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kageyama.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to face Shouyou. When he saw that Kageyama’s face was dry, Shouyou sighed in relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou couldn’t think of anything to say, but “you left the concert.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama coughed. “Yeah, after the first song.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so rude, meanie-yama.” Shouyou stepped closer to punch Kageyama in the arm. He evaded him easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood side by side, looking at the torii gate covered in snow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Shouyou said, reaching out and up to touch it, “I really don’t like this painting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside him, Kageyama gave a sharp laugh. It sounded like a scream that had been held too long and was thus transformed. Kageyama brushed Shouyou’s hand aside and took the painting off the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate it, too.” He carried the painting like a piece of garbage he would love to be rid of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will-” Kageyama stopped, clearing his throat again- “will you come with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where?” Shouyou asked. Kageyama didn’t answer, but Shouyou followed him out. They sneaked down back stairwells and out an open emergency exit. They emerged by the school’s trash bins and the furnace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After double checking no one was around, Kageyama shoved the painting into the banked embers. In an instant, the paints burst into hot, hungry flames. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pair jumped back from the furnace, a little afraid of what they had just done. Shouyou covered his nose as the fumes carried on the cold autumn wind in their direction. He wanted to leave, but Kageyama was still standing, still watching the gate disappear forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He refused to look at Kageyama’s face. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw raindrops creating an erratic pattern on the front of Kageyama’s shirt. Rain in November wasn’t unheard of, even if the forecast had not predicted the storm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his hand, the one that had been caged in a brace the summer Shouyou fell in love, he bridged the gap between them.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So!!!!! <a href="https://twitter.com/sonianime">Sonianime</a> fulfilled all of my life's dreams by drawing <a href="https://twitter.com/sonianime/status/1376599005019435017?s=20">the portrait of Hinata</a>!!!! T_T she spoiled this fic rotten with so much beautiful art, I hope you will check it out~</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Strangest Dream That You Knew Me, Too</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kageyama’s knuckles turned white in the shadow cast by the table.<br/>Shouyou raised his head and found Kageyama was looking at him. His blue eyes jumped around his face, maybe trying to mentally dig out Shouyou’s boyhood face.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back, and thank you for reading this chapter!!! </p><p>This chapter's title comes from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/0z3Sa7vtRfn4ywaHzZzBLK?si=ThAG4V1kQJqSiA843GBUWA">Visitor by Of Monsters &amp; Men</a>.<br/>There's some implied homophobia in this chapter, nothing in-depth, but just a little heads up &lt;3<br/>We finally meet Atsumu in this chapter, so here's the playlist for his band, <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2mky0fm1xyTdSCVMXJ32XV?si=fdCraq5CSnGnbmFXTZ624w">Fox Glove</a>. Some of the songs are vocally harder than what I imagine, but the music itself is very Fox Glove.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As they came to the end of the second set of the night, Akaashi crooned in a barely there voice, “<em> where can I start, with miles and miles, oceans and gulfs, and the curve of the horizon keeping us apart?” </em></p><p>Shouyou sat shirtless behind his drums. He was certain his eyeliner was gone. His muscles were tired; he wasn’t really used to performing twice in a night. His brain was running in several different directions as he mechanically drummed through the last song of the night. All those paths curved back to Kageyama behind the bar. </p><p>He didn’t try to see beyond the blinding stage lights. He knew Kageyama was there, closer than he had been in five years. </p><p>“<em> The curve of your everything is hidden from me, lacking the courage to call,” </em> Akaashi pushed through his exhaustion, plucking his bass in time with Shouyou’s kick drum. “ <em> Keep me in your pocket, like change for a pay phone.” </em> The song came to an end with those final words and a final cymbal crash. </p><p>He picked up the shirt he had discarded earlier and thrusted his face into the fabric. It was cool against his warm skin, soaking up the sweat as it continued to pour off of him. He was so hungry he thought he was going to die. </p><p>He missed Kuroo’s parting words to the crowd, and Oikawa pulled Shouyou out of his reverie.</p><p>“Come with me to get some more water from that nice bartender lady, I think I’m going to faint,” Oikawa complained while dragging him away from the drums. His drumsticks clattered uselessly to the floor and rolled away from him. </p><p>“Oikawa! Actually-” he tried to weasel his arm out of the keyboardist’s grip as he dragged him toward awkwardness and certain doom.</p><p>Despite how sweat-slicked he felt, Oikawa’s hand stayed firm around his wrist.</p><p>Soon, they were up against the bar. “Hello,” Oikawa called, his voice sickly sweet. Shouyou stood behind him and peeked his head around to risk a look.</p><p>Kiyoko was gone and only Kageyama remained. Shouyou watched him turn around as Oikawa beckoned him. Kageyama’s mouth opened in shock, looking not at Shouyou, but at Oikawa. </p><p>“What the hell?”</p><p>Oikawa finally let go of his arm and pointed rudely at Kageyama, “Tobio!”</p><p>Shouyou sprang from his hiding space and stared at Oikawa. “You know Kageyama?” He risked a glance at his former friend. Their eyes met. Kageyama’s gaze dropped from his eyes to his chest. His expression shifted, and Shouyou knew why. He popped back behind Oikawa and put his shirt back on.</p><p>When he reemerged, the shock seemed to be wearing off Oikawa, who leaned against the bar, excited. “We went to middle school together! We were both in the art track,” he explained. He peered through narrowed eyes at Shouyou and asked how he knew “Tobio.” </p><p>“We went to the same high school,” Kageyama answered for him. He didn’t say they had been best friends. He didn’t say that Shouyou had been his favorite muse, drawing the planes of his hands over and over. But, Shouyou didn’t say it either.</p><p>Oikawa snapped his fingers at Kageyama, “I was wondering why you didn’t come up to the high school.” He turned his attention back to Shouyou, “we went to a fancy escalator school, kindergarten through high school.”</p><p>“Wow,” he said. He didn’t have to fake his wonder. Schools like that were hard to get into. </p><p>Oikawa leaned further over the bar, more interested in the conversation than Kageyama as he organized the liquor bottles stored just below the counter of the bar. </p><p>“So you went to high school with those weirdos instead? Must have been a blast,” Oikawa laughed. </p><p>“It was fun,” Kageyama admitted, surprising Shouyou. He felt his face heat up with a thousand memories of lunch breaks spent laughing with the upperclassmen and Kageyama.</p><p>Oikawa drummed his fingers on the counter, choosing his next question. “Oh,” he said when he found it, “do you still talk to that little friend of yours? What was his name…”</p><p>Shouyou heard some bottles knock together. He wondered if Kageyama had become clumsy in the years since they parted. </p><p>“Kunimi, right,” Oikawa asked. </p><p>Kageyama’s face was impenetrable, but Shouyou saw the way the tips of his ears were turning pink, like they used to when he was embarrassed in high school. </p><p>“We lost touch after middle school,” he replied coolly.</p><p>“Oh, that’s a shame. He didn’t come up to the high school either, so I was wondering.” </p><p>“Yeah, sorry,” Kageyama said before turning around to pull something out of one of the many fridges. </p><p>“What time are you done with your shift, we should go out for drinks!” Oikawa demanded, with more energy than Shouyou thought anyone could have this late into the night. Damn that nap.</p><p>“Oikawa, I’m sure Kageyama is busy,” he said with a fake smile pulled tight against his face. </p><p>“Too busy for a little reunion? How about it, Tobio,” Oikawa whined. His signature winning smile tried to break Kageyama.</p><p>Shouyou felt someone plop their head on top of his. From above him, Bokuto said, “Kageyama! Hey! Look at you! Fancy meeting you here!” He threw a sweaty, protective arm around Shouyou. </p><p>Kageyama just about jumped out of his skin and greeted Bokuto back. He was growing paler by the second, and Shouyou found some sick satisfaction in it. </p><p>Oikawa turned to Bokuto, “I was just telling Tobio that he needs to go out with us for some drinks.”</p><p>“Yeah! We totally should! If we promise Akaashi food, he’ll be down for sure,” Bokuto reasoned. He let go and went off to find his boyfriend. </p><p>Shouyou was grasping at straws to find a reason why they couldn’t possibly spend the rest of the night in the same room together.</p><p>“Oikawa you slept all day, but Kuroo and Kenma have to be exhausted, we should just go back to the house.”</p><p>“Kenma can put up with it, I bet he’s hungry, too,” Oikawa retorted.</p><p>“I really don’t get out of work for two more hours,” Kageyama told them. “You shouldn’t have to wait that long.” His eyes jumped to Shouyou and back to Oikawa.</p><p>“You’re not getting out of this, Tobio. I’m gonna go talk to Kuroo.” With that, Oikawa left the bar without the water he had originally been vying for. </p><p>Realizing he was now alone with Kageyama, Shouyou felt his heart rate pick up. He tried to reconcile the warm affection for their high school selves that he kept in his heart and the reality of the present. It was an unknown Kageyama that stood before him. </p><p>A patron came up to the bar and ordered a drink. Shouyou thought he really should go find Kenma and use him against Kuroo and the rest of the band. Yet, he was stuck still as he watched Kageyama methodically craft the cocktail. </p><p>This older Kageyama still wore his signature frown, concentrating on the task before him. His hands were solid and sure, his fingers adjusting with every step in the process. </p><p>He was struck by the contrast of the brightly lit art club room and this dark, smoky club. Only Kageyama’s attention to detail remained. As he passed the drink off to the customer, Kageyama settled his attention back on him. In that moment, Shouyou felt the last five years slide off his shoulders, leaving him 18 and heartbroken.</p><p>Noticing the silence, Shouyou stammered out, “y-you don’t have to come! Oikawa’s just pushy… but I guess you know that...”</p><p>Kageyama’s mouth closed into a hard line. As the seconds ticked by, it trembled with some unspoken words. Shouyou felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the world. Something inside him still wanted to reassure Kageyama, like he had tried to do all through high school. He had a painful desire to still be friends. </p><p>“I’d like to,” Kageyama said, “if you’re willing to wait.”</p><p>Shouyou put a hand on the bar to steady himself. </p><p>“If the band’s willing to wait,” Kageyama corrected before Shouyou could speak again.</p><p>Not knowing what else to do, he said, “okay.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“You see,” Oikawa began his tale of how he joined the band, “when I went up to the high school, I realized it would be much cooler to do music.” </p><p>Kageyama walked beside his former upperclassman ahead of Shouyou, listening intently to his story. “They let you transfer from the art track?”</p><p>“I had to schmooze the school, but they really couldn’t tell me no.”</p><p>“Are you still close with Iwaizumi,” Kageyama asked. Shouyou could hear the reverence in his voice. </p><p>Oikawa threw a friendly arm around Kageyama, causing him to tense up like a deer in headlights. “Don’t try to steal my boyfriend,” he threatened, pinching Kageyama’s cheek.</p><p>“What?” The word escaped Shouyou without his permission. Oikawa turned to look at Shouyou, his mouth falling open, connecting some obvious dots.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kageyama mumbled, slipping out of Oikawa’s grasp.</p><p>“Oh, Shouyou, you should have seen him! He followed Iwaizumi like a lost puppy, it was so cute!”</p><p>This new information was dissonant with Shouyou’s image of Kageyama. He could be broody, sure. Kageyama could sulk, he couldn’t-</p><p>He thought of Kageyama’s gentle look of anticipation, his wide, blue eyes and the softness of his mouth.</p><p>Shouyou laughed. “Iwaizumi does have that effect on people.” </p><p>From behind Shouyou, Akaashi quipped, “except on Oikawa.”</p><p>Bokuto giggled next to his boyfriend and called out to Kageyama, “Oikawa didn’t know Iwaizumi was in love with him for a decade.”</p><p>“Talk about dense,” Kuroo purred into the night. Kenma brought up the rear of the group, sleepy and annoyed. Kuroo pulled him along by the hand. </p><p>Kageyama opened the door of the all night Izakaya and asked if there was a table big enough for seven people available. They waited a few minutes and were shown to a half circle booth near the back. Shouyou slid into the booth first, scooting all the way to the middle. Kenma followed on his right. Kuroo insisted on being on the end, so Shouyou scooted closer to Kenma so everyone else would fit. </p><p>Oikawa pushed Kageyama toward the other entrance of the booth saying, “I want to sit next to Tobio.”</p><p>Kageyama slid into the booth with Oikawa close behind him. He gave Shouyou too much space. Oikawa nudged Kageyama’s side, forcing him to eliminate the gap between him and Shouyou.</p><p>Kageyama was nearly flushed against Shouyou’s left side. It reminded him of being on the bus with Kageyama on the way to their school trip in their second year. After helping Shouyou clean up the mess his stomach had made on the floor, Kageyama had held him. Being sick had left him shaking and out of sorts, seeking any comfort he could find. </p><p>In this izakaya, their proximity brought him no comfort. This was the closest he had been to Kageyama since-</p><p>“And I told Kuroo that he had the worst haircut on the planet-” Oikawa’s voice pulled Shouyou out of his head.</p><p>“Oikawa, that is totally not how we met,” Kuroo shook a fist at Oikawa. </p><p>“I don’t care what kind of lies he tells,” Kenma said, “as long as I get to order some karaage and a beer.” </p><p>Kuroo bent over Kenma’s phone screen, lifted his eyebrows, and fished a power bank out of his backpack under the table. He gave Kenma the long charging cord and tucked the bank away again.</p><p>“You must be wiped. You never let your phone drop below 20 percent.”</p><p>“There wasn’t anywhere to plug it in while I was slaving away at the merch table.”</p><p>“We better hurry up and order, then,” Akaashi said. A stomach at the table gave a humongous rumble. Shouyou was shocked that for once it wasn’t his own stomach screaming.</p><p>“Wow, sorry about that,” Bokuto apologized, but he was never a good actor. That meant the growl had belonged to his boyfriend, but no one said anything as Akaashi slammed the call button in the center of the table.</p><p>Oikawa cursed at Akaashi. “I haven’t looked at the menu yet!”</p><p>“That seems to be a theme with you.”</p><p>Oikawa threw his arms up in frustration, knocking into Kageyama. The blow made him fall against Shouyou like a domino. All of Shouyou’s attention narrowed on the place where their arms met. He wanted to jump into Kenma’s lap just to get away from the awkwardness filling him up.</p><p>Kageyama quickly righted himself. Quickly checking to see if Shouyou was okay, “Sorry-”</p><p>Shouyou waved his hands in front of him, “It’s alright!” To avoid looking at Kageyama, Shouyou looked at Bokuto at the end opposite Kuroo. His bright eyes jumped between them. </p><p>“Kageyama, what are you doing living all the way out here,” Bokuto asked, saving Shouyou. </p><p>“I’m studying under a local artist, Ukai Ikkei,” Kageyama explained.</p><p>“Oh wow, that’s so cool!”</p><p>“And you work at Kitaichi,” Akaashi asked. He had always had a special place in his heart for Kageyama when they were in high school. After the thirds years had graduated, leaving Akaashi and Shouyou the only members of the band club, Kageyama had learned some piano chords during lunch breaks.</p><p>“Gotta pay rent,” Kageyama shrugged.</p><p>A server appeared to take their orders, and Kuroo took charge to make sure seven hungry young men didn’t attack her with the force of their hunger induced mania. </p><p>As she left, Oikawa asked Kageyama if he had any pieces in any galleries nearby. </p><p>“I have a few landscapes in Kobe, but nothing in Osaka yet.”</p><p>“Do you still specialize in those,” Akaashi asked. His eyes fluttered, and he leaned against Bokuto. </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Bokuto, who had been his savior, quickly became his enemy when he asked, “hey, do you still have that portrait Kageyama did of you?”</p><p>Shouyou hung his head, scared to answer. In the gap between Kageyama and the table, he watched him clench his fist against his leg.</p><p>“It’s in my room back home, yeah.”</p><p>Kageyama’s knuckles turned white in the shadow cast by the table. </p><p>Shouyou raised his head and found Kageyama was looking at him. His blue eyes jumped around his face, maybe trying to mentally dig out Shouyou’s boyhood face.</p><p>Unsure, Shouyou faked a smile for Kageyama. “I don’t really know what to do with it,” he admitted. “It’s a bit embarrassing to hang up a picture of myself, isn’t?” He brought a nervous hand to his collarbone. He tapped on it when he felt stressed. His hand was so close to Kageyama.</p><p>“If Tobio painted me,” Oikawa butted in, “I would hang it for all to see.”</p><p>“That’s why you’re you and Shouyou is Shouyou,” Akaashi told him, rubbing his temples. </p><p>“I don’t really do portraits anyway,” Kageyama told Oikawa.</p><p>Bokuto put a hand under his chin, thinking. “Akaashi, didn’t the portrait of Shouyou get some big prize? I can’t remember.”</p><p>“It got first in the city art competition,” Shouyou told him. </p><p>Oikawa patted Kageyama’s head like one would a child. “Amazing, but don’t worry, I’ll be rich and famous before you.”</p><p>Kageyama swatted his hand away, “why would I worry about something like that?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Through the rest of the meal, Kageyama and Shouyou talked around each other. Their former upperclassmen kept the conversation lively, jumping from topic to topic. Kageyama mentioned he didn’t really talk to his parents. He didn’t ask for their financial support, another reason he was working at Kitaichi. Later, Bokuto told Kageyama that Shouyou was basically the lyricist of the band. </p><p>They called it a night when Akaashi actually started snoring while leaning against Bokuto in the booth. The first train of the morning was still about an hour off, so they decided to take their time walking to Osaka station instead of sitting around, doing nothing. </p><p>The sky looked like it was contemplating letting go of the night and allowing dawn to arrive. Shouyou complained about the impending rain. If the sky didn’t hold, they were going to be caught outside without any umbrellas. Worse, rain and dips in temperatures made his old wound ache something fierce.</p><p>“Shouyou doesn’t like June,” Oikawa said to Kageyama. Shouyou was about  to fight Oikawa, say that no one could really dislike a whole month-</p><p>“I know,” was all Kageyama said in return. </p><p>Surprised, he picked up his speed to walk beside Akaashi. The lead singer looked completely wiped out. He rubbed his throat and complained about vending machines not carrying hot beverages during the summer months.</p><p>“I’ll write them a stern letter,” Bokuto threatened from the other side of Akaashi.</p><p>“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said.”</p><p>“Really,” Bokuto asked, “gee, I thought I was more romantic than that.” </p><p>Like Shouyou and Kenma had predicted, his tower of hair had collapsed under the pressure of the long night. The remnants were long enough to obscure his eyes. Akaashi reached out to give Bokuto’s hair a tug. Shouyou looked away, letting them have their own moment. </p><p>The scene felt familiar and foreign, a dream overlapping with a precious memory. He was in a new city, with the same people he had known for so long. And, those people were connected to each other in ways that intersected and diverted from Shouyou’s life. The anxiousness he felt from seeing Kageyama was settling into mild confusion. He couldn’t decide if he was glad to see him or not. He liked learning new things about Kageyama, flipping the pages of his story back and forward to times before and after Shouyou. </p><p>Bokuto led them around a corner, and Osaka station came into view. The sun was finally rising, ripping apart the clouds to the east, soft light bouncing off the tall glass walls and roof of the station. The morning air was still. The water in the large fountain softly trickled, sounding awfully like rain. Escalators ran empty loops up and down. Several drunkards sat on the stairs that led to the fountain’s level, watching the water ripple. </p><p>“How long until the first train,” Kenma asked, despite being the only person with his phone out.</p><p>Kageyama looked at his watch, “about 15 minutes.”</p><p>“A convenience store run, then,” Akaashi decided. They walked up the stairs to the main part of the station. Shouyou felt creeped out by the escalators beside him, the only other things moving except for his group. He took the stairs nearly two at time; Kageyama was the only person who could keep up with him. </p><p>Akaashi, Bokuto, and Oikawa went to the convenience store, while Kuroo and Kenma went to charge up their train cards. Shouyou and Kageyama sat together on a bench outside of the station’s gates. They were truly alone together for the first time in five years. </p><p>Kageyama cleared his throat. “Your band is good.”</p><p>Shouyou shook his head and forced out a laugh, “you finally sat through a full set.”</p><p>“Well-”</p><p>“Ah,” Shouyou teased, “you were forced to, is that it?”</p><p>Kageyama ran a hand through his hair before responding, “I mean it.”</p><p>“Thanks,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper he hoped sounded sincere.</p><p>Kuroo and Kenma walked past them to join the others who were probably causing havoc in the convenience store. As they passed by, Kenma analyzed Shouyou with his piercing gaze. He stopped for a moment, but quickly followed Kuroo when Shouyou gave a little shake of his head. </p><p>At the same time, Shouyou and Kageyama tried to speak.</p><p>“I-”</p><p>“You-”</p><p>“You go first,” Shouyou insisted.</p><p>“I’m glad you kept it. The portrait, I mean,” Kageyama told him.</p><p>A cocktail of shame and anger stirred in Shouyou. “You gave it to me, I wouldn’t throw it away.” Mostly, he kept it to remind himself of a time when he felt so completely understood, when his insatiable desire to be known had been quelled. </p><p>“It’s a bit sad,” Shouyou admitted, “it just sits in my room covered up.”</p><p>“Not the worst fate for it,” Kageyama mumbled before covering a yawn. </p><p>Shouyou studied Kageyama’s face to see if he was referencing the destruction of the torii gate painting during the cultural festival their first year. All these years later, he still didn’t understand the significance of it or why Kageyama had cried. </p><p>In the present, he was surprised Kageyama could feel sleepy at a time like this. In contrast, he felt very awake as the sun climbed higher into the sky. </p><p>Kageyama asked, “what were you going to say?”</p><p>The ball of shame that he had carried inside of him for five years crawled up his throat.</p><p>“That I’m sorry.”</p><p>Kageyama understood immediately, pulling out his phone. He unlocked it and handed it to him.</p><p>“Don’t be.”</p><p>Not for the first time, Shouyou’s heart fell apart. He took the phone in his hand and put in his phone number. He handed it back to Kageyama, careful not to touch him. </p><p>The rest of the band rejoined them. On the platform, with Kageyama about to set off in the opposite direction of their train, he asked them how long they were in town.</p><p>“Until the end of August,” Shouyou told him as the doors to Kageyama’s train opened. His old friend nodded and waved goodbye. Shouyou raised his hand to return the wave, but Kageyama had already turned away from him.</p><p>Instead, he brought the hand up to his forehead. </p><p>As their own train arrived, Kenma grabbed Shouyou’s other wrist and said, “let’s go back. You look like you saw a ghost.”</p><p>Shouyou let out a pitiful excuse for a laugh, feeling his eyes prickle. “Didn’t I?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>They played one more night at Kitaichi that week, but Kageyama had the day off. During the final sound check, Shouyou checked his phone. There was a message from an unknown number asking him if he was busy the next day. He knew it was Kageyama. He had a bad habit of texting without any punctuation. </p><p>Shouyou saved the number and locked his phone without responding. It still felt surreal to have spoken with Kageyama, to have apologized and been forgiven so easily. Well, he still didn’t feel like forgiving himself. </p><p>He did want to be friends with Kageyama again, but what did that mean? Shouyou had spent so much of their friendship in love with Kageyama; he wasn’t sure what would change between them and what would still be the same. </p><p>He left the phone in his pocket through the first set, afraid to respond too quickly and scare Kageyama. Shouyou had to make sure Kageyama knew that he was over it: over him and over what happened in the winter of their third year. </p><p>Leaning on the pillar next to the merch table, he typed and deleted and retyped his response to Kageyama. Could he simply say that he was free? Should he ask what Kageyama was asking for? He gave a grunt of frustration. When Shouyou looked up from his phone, he saw Kenma watching him.</p><p>“Hey,” Shouyou said.</p><p>“What’s wrong,” Kenma asked, his expression barely betraying any interest. </p><p>Shouyou held out his phone to him, the message from Kageyama on the screen. </p><p> Kenma wrapped a hand over Shouyou’s hand to steady the phone. After he read it, he let go of him and asked, “are you going to hang out with him?”</p><p>“Probably? I want to.”</p><p>“So the problem is?”</p><p>Shouyou pointed at the phone he was still holding toward Kenma, “I don’t know what to say!”</p><p>“‘Yes?’” Kenma shrugged. “I don’t get what’s so complicated about it.”</p><p>“I don’t want to seem, um, too eager,” he explained, his voice climbing up to the rafters. It sounded more like a question.</p><p>“How does answering a question… you know what,” Kenma decided with a shake of his head, “nevermind. He obviously wants to see you, and you seem more okay with that than I thought.” He looked at the shaking phone again. “You better answer soon,” Kenma warned.</p><p>“What, why,” Shouyou asked, flipping his phone around to look for some kind of secret message only Kenma understood.</p><p>“You have your read receipts on.” </p><p>“Shit!” Shouyou poised his fingers over his keyboard to reply, but he still couldn’t think of the best words to say. </p><p>“Just hurry up and do it. You’re going to be late for the second set,” Kenma told him, gesturing to the stage with his chin.</p><p>With one last curse, Shouyou just told Kageyama that he was free tomorrow. He slammed his phone on the merch table and told Kenma to hold on to it for him. Kenma accepted his task with an eye roll, going as far as to plug Shouyou’s phone into the power bank he had brought with him.</p><p>Shouyou was touched by Kenma’s brand of kindness. As he ran back to the stage stairs, he clipped someone’s shoulder, hard. Shouyou and the stranger both reached out their arms to steady each other. </p><p>Shouyou let go of him, bowed his head a little, and apologized. </p><p>“It’s no biggie,” the stranger said. Shouyou lifted his head and thought the blond stranger looked and sounded vaguely familiar. Lacking the time to ask the stranger any questions, Shouyou gave another short apology and walked as fast as he could to the stage. </p><p>Shouyou took his seat at the drums. The only other person plugging in was Oikawa, messing with one of his foot pedals. Instantly bored and still jumpy from texting Kageyama, Shouyou started twirling and tossing his drumsticks.</p><p>Kuroo came up the short set of stairs with Akaashi trailing behind him. He stopped to talk to Oikawa and Shouyou.</p><p>“Miya Atsumu’s here.”</p><p>Shouyou missed catching one of his sticks, and it struck one of his snare drums hard.Kuroo jumped and narrowed his eyes at Shouyou, who shrugged as an apology. </p><p> He picked it up and pointed it at Kuroo. He tried to speak, but the words got tangled in his excitement. </p><p>“Chill out, Shouyou,” Kuroo said with a touch of amusement. </p><p>“I think I ran into him,” he explained.</p><p>“Oh, you talked to him already,” Oikawa asked, finally leaving his pedals alone.</p><p>Shouyou rubbed his forehead, feeling the embarrassment building up. “No, I mean I barrelled into him.”</p><p>Kuroo barked out a laugh, and Oikawa rolled his eyes, turning to face the crowd.</p><p>“Classic Shouyou,” Kuroo said before crossing the stage to the far side of Akaashi.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>When the set was finished, the band met Miya Atsumu at the bar. Kiyoko lined up some waters for them, asking Bokuto to take one back to the sound booth with him as Tanaka started to lock up for the night. </p><p>After the initial introductions, Atsumu said, “Sorry the rest of the band didn’t come up with me, they said they weren’t gonna spend a day off in another dingy club.”</p><p>“It does drive you crazy after a while,” Oikawa mumbled around the straw in his water bottle. </p><p>Shouyou was excited to really meet the lead singer of Fox Glove. They had been listening to Fox Glove’s music since the bands had agreed to work together. All the members of Of A Feather thought very highly of Atsumu’s skill.</p><p>His presence was different from Akaashi’s, who seemed to bloom into a different person on the stage. Miya Atsumu had a reckless smile and body language that was so self-assured, Shouyou couldn’t help but admire him. </p><p>“We haven’t had to do a two set night like that in ages,” Atsumu admitted before he took a sip of his drink.</p><p>“It’s pretty tiring,” Shouyou agreed. “Last time, I let Bokuto do some eyeliner on me and it was destroyed by the end of the night!”<br/>
“That your sound guy? He sounds pretty skilled.”</p><p>Kuroo rubbed the back of his head, “he’s got a lot of interests. Helps us out, though!”</p><p>Atsumu snapped his fingers like he remembered something. “Does your manager have Kita’s number? Our manager, I mean.”</p><p>Kuroo nodded, “yeah, he included it in his last email.”</p><p>“Awesome. Normally he’d come greet you guys, but he’s been really busy since we got signed.” </p><p>All of Shouyou’s exhaustion left his body, “you guys are with a label now?” He rolled his water bottle in his hands in his excitement.</p><p>“What!” Kuroo yelled. “That’s news to me! Congratulations.” </p><p>“It’s a real recent thing, I’m still really shocked. Poor Kita’s stressed all to hell.”</p><p>Shouyou laughed and turned to Kuroo, “could you imagine Kenma trying to negotiate with a label?”</p><p>“He’d make you do it, Kuroo,” Oikawa whacked their leader on the shoulder. </p><p>Without his usual humor, Kuroo rolled his eyes. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>The band waved goodbye to Atsumu with promises to contact Kita before the show at Wonderland. The outside air was warm enough to make Shouyou feel like he was suspended in time. It was equal parts enjoyable and uncomfortable.</p><p>When they tapped in at the train station, Shouyou finally asked Kenma for his phone back. He handed him the phone.</p><p>He had a missed call from Kageyama and two messages. The first message asked if Shouyou had anywhere he specifically wanted to see while in the area. The second message, which came after the phone call, included Kageyama berating himself for forgetting Shouyou was performing. The rest of the message explained that Kageyama had some shopping to do in Shinsaibashi, and he asked if Shouyou wanted to join him. </p><p>After reading Kageyama’s awkwardness that he interpreted as excitement, responding to him came easier this time. He agreed to meet Kageyama for shopping if he was okay with going later in the afternoon.</p><p>Kageyama’s reply came while Shouyou was sliding into his futon after a cold shower. They agreed on a meeting place in the Shinsaibashi station. </p><p>HIs eyes unbelievably heavy, he told Kageyama goodnight.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>In the crowded, massive underground station of Shinsaibashi, Shouyou yelled into his cell phone. “You specifically said gate 8. I have the text message, Kageyama!”</p><p>His ex friend’s voice heaved a weary sigh, “did you forget how to read? I said the mart between gate 8 and 10. Just walk further down.” </p><p>Shouyou dropped his phone to his side with an angry hiss.</p><p>His head was overheating from the crowd battering him on all sides. He didn’t care for massive subway stations. He always felt like the roof was pressing down on him.</p><p>He let himself be carried by the flow of people.  The sign for the mart popped into view. He was a fish caught up in the current, but he tried his hardest to worm his way out of the crowd. </p><p>Kageyama still had his phone pressed up against his face. Shouyou had forgotten to end the call. He hit the end button and called out.</p><p>At the sound of his name, Kageyama’s eyes found him as he closed the distance between them. </p><p>“Kageyama, this place is ridiculous. Why would you ever meet someone here?”</p><p>“Me? You’re the one that suggested we meet up at rush hour,” Kageyama groused.</p><p>“Ugh, whatever, we’re not shopping down here, are we? I might suffocate,” Shouyou continued to complain. Squabbling with Kageyama like this, petty as it was, felt like the safest thing to do.</p><p>“No, we’ll go up to the street level if you’re ready.” </p><p>“Thank the gods. Yeah, let’s go. Anywhere has to be better than this.”</p><p>They found a set of escalators that popped them out on an alleyway. The outside air was hotter than the controlled climate of the underground shopping area, but Shouyou appreciated the breeze he could feel on his face.</p><p>When they came out onto the main street, the road was wider than any he had ever seen. Expensive foreign stores took up massive store fronts. The trees dotting the center divider between the traffic were covered in lights waiting to illuminate the dusk when it eventually arrived.</p><p> As they walked, he tried not to gawk at the amount of foreigners that shuffled past them. He heard snippets of English and what sounded like Spanish, but he was no expert. </p><p>Just as soon as they had begun walking along this beautiful road, Kageyama had them make another turn that led to one of Shouyou’s worst nightmares. Shouyou watched in despair as they waited for the walking light.</p><p>The Shinsaibashi shopping arcade stretched out as far as Shouyou could see. The arched covering was high above the small shops that lined the street, but it blocked out the light of the sunny day. Worst, thousands of people seemed to be milling about like ants packed too tight into a toy ant hill.</p><p>Shouyou groaned, “are we going to walk through that?”</p><p>“There’s a shop that sells canvas pretty cheap,” Kageyama said matter of factly, as if that made the journey anymore worth it. </p><p>“You’re buying me an iced coffee after this, then,” Shouyou decided. When the light turned, he stepped off the curb to meet his doom.</p><p> </p><p>When they found the canvas supplier’s small shop, Shouyou welcomed the few centimeters of space he now had around him. </p><p>He looked around the shop, not much bigger than the tatami room at the house. Several other patrons were slowly looking at the fabrics and massive rolls of paper. He thought most of them must be like him: enjoying the break from the press of bodies out on the street. </p><p>He looked around for Kageyama, having lost him as soon as they crossed the threshold into the shop. He was already at the register. The cashier laughed at something Kageyama said. When he turned around to look for Shouyou, he had something close to a smile on his face, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.</p><p>Then, he saw that Kageyama’s arms were empty.</p><p>“You didn’t buy anything?”</p><p>“He’s going to deliver it. Ukai wanted way too much.”</p><p>Shouyou rolled his eyes as they re-entered the swarm of bodies. “Couldn’t you have called instead?”</p><p>“Being friendly with this shop gets us a good price, dumbass.” </p><p>Their next stop was a bookshop where Kageyama bought an art book that didn’t look all that interesting to Shouyou.</p><p>After Kageyama finished his purchase, Shouyou said, “you know, you’re not supposed to buy yourself coffee table books.”</p><p>“What,” Kageyama asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion. </p><p>“Nothing, nothing,” he threw his hands up in surrender.</p><p> They melted into the crowd once more. Shouyou had to admit all of the shouts and buzz of conversation around him was not unpleasant. It was a steady stream, nearly musical. </p><p>For a moment, he lost sight of Kageyama. Nearly turning in a circle, he searched for him. Everyone around him blended together, but surely someone as tall as Kageyama should be easy to find. </p><p>He stretched on his tiptoes to get a little advantage over the crowd. His eyes landed on Kageyama, who was staring at the window of a coffee shop. Shouyou breathed a sigh of relief and made his way over to the store front. </p><p>“You left me,” Shouyou huffed. </p><p>Surprised, Kageyama snapped his focus away from the store’s menu to Shouyou. His eyebrows drew down tight over his eyes.</p><p>“I told you I wanted to look at this place,” he told Shouyou, sounding as confused as he looked. </p><p>Shouyou ran a hand through his sweaty hair. The anger that had been building in him abated. “I guess I didn’t hear you,” he shrugged. “Maybe because you still mumble.”</p><p>Kageyama narrowed his eyes at him, “seems more like you still don’t know how to pay attention.” </p><p>Shouyou decided to look at the menu, too, so Kageyama would look away from him. He felt a blush start to climb up his neck, threatening to take up permanent residence on his cheeks. </p><p>He knew Kageyama was only referring to Shouyou’s airheaded youth, but it made him think about how his misinterpretations had ruined their friendship in the first place. </p><p>He wanted those thoughts to go away. Kageyama had forgiven him, and he had never been the type to say things he didn’t mean. Shouyou had every reason to believe him.</p><p>“Do you still want that ice coffee,” Kageyama asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. He watched Shouyou give the menu one more pass over, actually reading it this time. Shouyou tried to concentrate as Kageyama’s analytical gaze picked him apart.</p><p>He straightened up and said, “only if you’re buying.” </p><p>“You said I was.” Kageyama rolled his eyes and stepped to open the door. “Even though it’s going to make you insufferable.”</p><p>Shouyou walked through the door, resisting the urge to punch Kageyama in the gut. He wasn’t sure if that was something they could still do. “I’m a delight,” Shouyou decided to say instead. </p><p>Kageyama’s hand engulfed his head and gave him a good shake. Shouyou’s hands flew up to pry Kageyama’s hand off the crown of his head. </p><p>“What the hell,” Shouyou tried to hold in his laugh. He coughed and glared at Kageyama while still holding his hand with both of his own.</p><p>The edges of Kageyama’s mouth were fighting against a grin, the closest to a smile he had seen in a long time.</p><p>“Old habit.”</p><p>Shouyou registered the heat of Kageyama’s hand and let go with as little fanfare as he could manage.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>The iced coffee had been the worst decision ever. An hour later, Shouyou’s heart jumped against the confines of his ribs. His mouth was moving a mile a minute; his voice fought against the storm of voices in the crowded shopping street. Shouyou’s steps felt feather light as he kept up with Kageyama, who cut through the crowd like a knife.</p><p>“Did you know Konoha lives out here? He owns a bakery in Kobe, he said he inherited it from his grandmother. I mean we didn’t hear from him for ages, like, we all thought he was dead or-” Shouyou stopped as he collided with someone. The force of the impact made him lose his footing, in real life and in his story. </p><p>Kageyama’s arm came around him in an instant. Even after he steadied him, Kageyama’s grip shoved Shouyou in front of him. Shouyou didn’t know how to start talking again as Kageyama used the hand on his shoulder to guide them to the end of the shopping street. The crowd thinned as soon as Kageyama swung them to the right.</p><p>“Are you alright,” Kageyama asked when he finally let go. </p><p>Shouyou rolled his eyes and brought his arms up to flex them. “Kageyama, Kageyama, you should be more worried about the people I bump into. Look at these babies! Hard as rocks.” He laughed.</p><p>Kageyama looked like he wanted to kick Shouyou all the way back to Sendai. “Whatever, see if I care next time.”</p><p>“Like I said,” Shouyou shrugged, “I’m pretty strong. Where are we off to now?” He made a pretend visor with his hand, scouting out their current location. The oppressive awning of the shopping street was gone. Instead, the sun was finally beginning to set after a hot and sticky day. To Shouyou’s delight, the sky was still clear. </p><p>Kageyama fought a reaction, unable to decide on what to say. “There’s one more store I want to go to.”</p><p>“Alright, man, lead the way!”</p><p> </p><p>They made a slow pace through the streets, enjoying the breeze and the loud shops bursting with color and knock-off foreign brands. The street lights came on one by one, but they were overshadowed by the bright advertisement screens that were almost as bright as daylight. </p><p>They approached an open air mall, many large flights of stairs eating up much of the space. Kageyama led them deep into the building. They entered a dark store that blasted loud, classic rock on the speakers. Every nook, cranny, shelf, and crate was stuffed full of vinyls and cds. </p><p>“This place is pretty cool,” Shouyou said over the music. He smiled at Kageyama and asked, “Are we hunting down something?” Shouyou wiggled his fingers at him, excited for the thrill of the chase.</p><p>“Nah, I just thought you might like this place.” </p><p>Shouyou dropped his hands and looked around the store again. Had Kageyama remembered the record collection Shouyou had shown him when he came over for dinner during their second year? Did he remember his incessant insistence that everything sounds better on a record player? </p><p>He turned slowly in a circle, unsure of where to dig in first. He noted Kageyama was watching him with his mouth a thin line of worry. </p><p>“This place is awesome,” Shouyou told him with a smile. Compared to other smiles, it felt effortless and inexhaustible. He pulled out his phone and opened his notes. </p><p>“You’re so going to regret this,” he warned Kageyama, “but here’s the list of the stuff I’ve been looking for.” </p><p>Kageyama read the list and said, “I bet I could find more than you.”</p><p>“Is that a challenge?” Shouyou tucked his phone to his chest, narrowing his eyes at Kageyama.</p><p>“Send me a copy of the list,” Kageyama commanded, before turning on his heel to begin his search. </p><p>“Hey!” He scrambled to copy the note and send it. “That’s cheating!” He called after Kageyama. Once the message showed it was delivered, Shouyou spun in the opposite direction to begin his own quest.</p><p> </p><p>In the end, Kageyama had found five vinyl records that had been on the list, and Shouyou had found six. Declaring himself the winner, he made Kageyama hold them up in his arms while he selected the three he wanted to buy. He plucked the chosen ones out of Kageyama’s arms and told him to wait while he went up to the register. </p><p>After purchasing the records, Shouyou met Kageyama at the door. He saw that Kageyama had an extra bag on his arm.</p><p>“Did you buy something for you?”</p><p>Kageyama started walking. “Something like that.”</p><p> </p><p>The night marched on. Shouyou was starting to feel hungry, but Kageyama seemed to be leading them with a particular destination in mind. The streets began to narrow more and more. The crowds thickened to the point that he had to grab the back of Kageyama’s shirt in order to keep up. </p><p>They came to a bridge surrounded by electric signs so bright, Shouyou had to squint. The Glico man stood victorious as tourists crammed into one of the nooks of the bridge to take photos.</p><p>He turned to Kageyama with his mouth open. He looked between the famous sign and Kageyama a couple times before complaining, “did you make me walk all the way to Dotomburi, meanie-yama?”</p><p>Kageyama huffed, annoyed, “it’s not that far, you directionless dumbass.”</p><p>Shouyou shook his head, not letting his hunger turn into anger. </p><p>“Do you…” Kageyama mumbled, but then repeated in a normal voice, “Should I take your picture?”</p><p>“Ah, c’mon, Kageyama, it’s embarrassing to act like a tourist,” Shouyou said with a wave of his hand. </p><p>“You are a tourist, aren’t you?” </p><p>“I’m not-” he said and stopped. “Okay fine whatever.”</p><p>They left the main walkway to wait for a chance to take a good photo.</p><p>“You have to do the pose,” Kageyama told him.</p><p>“Kageyama-”</p><p>“It’s part of the experience.”</p><p>Shouyou snapped. “Only if you do it, too!”</p><p>“I don’t need to take a picture with it, I live here,” Kageyama shot back. </p><p>“Would you like me to take a picture?” </p><p>Kageyama and Shouyou both jumped at the sound of the new voice addressing them. The speaker was a middle aged woman. She smiled at them, but something seemed tight in her expression. Shouyou figured they must have driven her crazy with their yelling. </p><p>He dug his ribs into Kageyama, forcing him to answer the lady. “Oh, no, it’s fine.”</p><p>“It’s more fun to be in a picture together, right? It’s alright, I don’t mind taking it,” she countered. </p><p>Shouyou relented and handed his phone to her. As he and Kageyama posed with their arms above their heads, Shouyou felt like his face was on fire. When they were done, they thanked the woman profusely, even though she had bullied them into it. </p><p>“I think I lost 10 years off my life,” he whined as they finished crossing the bridge. Kageyama hummed in agreement.</p><p>As soon as they stepped off the bridge, Shouyou’s nose was assaulted by the mixing smells of street food. </p><p>“Kageyama, aren’t you hungry yet?”</p><p>“Starving,” he replied. “What do you want to eat?”</p><p>“Everything!”</p><p>Shouyou led Kageyama up and down the food stall covered street. They stopped whenever something caught Shouyou’s eyes: takoyaki, okonomiyaki, pork buns, and more. They ate until Shouyou couldn’t stand the sight of any more food. </p><p>When he told Kageyama as much, he led them down a set of stairs to stand by the side of the river. The lights didn’t quite reach the water's edge. The other bank was crowded with people on the couple of benches enjoying the summer night. On their side, however, Kageyama and Shouyou were the only people around.</p><p>Shouyou threw himself on the bench with a great sigh. Kageyama stayed at the railing for a couple moments longer before turning around. Shouyou watched him as he walked over. In the dim light, Kageyama’s deep blue eyes seemed nearly as black as his hair. The beautiful boy he knew had grown into a beautiful man, and Shouyou had missed it. </p><p>Kageyama sat down, and Shouyou pushed away his melancholy thoughts. He threw his hands behind his head and turned to Kageyama, who was removing his plastic shopping bags from his wrist. “I’m wiped. I think you tried to kill me.”</p><p>Kageyama almost threw out a hand to punch Shouyou, but he pulled it back at the last second. He crossed his arms and slid down the bench. It was the worst posture Shouyou had ever seen.</p><p>“I guess it was fun,” Shouyou teased. “This city really is huge…”</p><p>Kageyama nodded. He was watching the small boats sail up and down the river, packed to the brim with tourists. Shouyou watched them, too.</p><p>“How long have you been living out here,”Shouyou asked. </p><p>“About two years.”</p><p>“What were you doing before then?” </p><p>Kageyama’s response was slower this time. Shouyou let him take his time, wary of pushing Kageyama.</p><p>“I was floating around Sendai. I moved there after high school.”</p><p>Shouyou’s eyes shifted to Kageyama and back to the river. “You didn’t… go to the university you told me you were taking the exam for?”</p><p>Kageyama heaved a deep sigh, “I missed the interview for the visual arts program and didn’t do good on the exam.”</p><p>Disbelieving, Shouyou said, “you missed the interview? Wh-” but he stopped, remembering. A wave of guilt rocked Shouyou’s gut. The heart in his chest wanted to fly out and far away. His timing had been so fucked.</p><p>He scrambled for words, filled with hatred for his 18 year-old self. Tears of shame welled in his eyes. He couldn’t look at Kageyama. </p><p>“Kageyama, I’m so sorry, I should-”</p><p>“I already said it’s okay, dumbass.” Shouyou heard Kageyama’s warm words, but he couldn’t believe him.</p><p>“It’s not okay,” Shouyou shot back. He blinked back his tears, trying to avoid rubbing his eyes. “It’s not okay, especially if I’m the reason that you…”</p><p>“Hinata, it wasn’t you-” Kageyama stopped, and corrected- “it wasn’t all you.”</p><p>Shouyou bowed his head and shook it. </p><p>It was quiet for a minute as Shouyou tried to regain his composure. Kageyama broke the silence, revealing a piece of a secret.</p><p>“You know, my parents, they put a lot of pressure on me.” </p><p>Shouyou nodded, even though he hadn’t known. With his head still bowed, he watched Kageyama’s fingers twist themselves into the plastic handles of his bag. It cut off their circulation with every twist and untwist. </p><p>“I cracked a bit,” Kageyama admitted. “And I’ve never…” he trailed off, like it cost him something to say the words. “I’ve never been a great student to begin with.” </p><p>Shouyou nodded again.</p><p>“And I didn’t try the next year because I left my parents’ house.”</p><p>Shouyou gripped his knees with his hands.</p><p>“Because…” Kageyama trailed off.</p><p>Shouyou blew out the breath he had been unconsciously holding.</p><p>“Because?” he prompted.</p><p>Kageyama gave Shouyou another secret, “Because I’m gay.”</p><p>A shiver went up Shouyou’s spine. </p><p>“So stop apologizing,” Kageyama huffed out.</p><p>Shouyou brought his hands to his face, double checking his face and eyes were dry. He returned them to his side, and he lifted his head. The boats were gone and the other shore was empty of people. It felt like Shouyou and Kageyama were the only people in the world.</p><p>“Okay,” he agreed, but his heart felt heavier than ever. </p><p> </p><p>After leaving the river, they walked down to the next station so Shouyou could catch the subway back to the house. Kageyama coming out to him left him in a weird headspace. It put the incident in third year into a different perspective. Different, but not necessarily better. </p><p>Shouyou had never talked to his parents about his own sexuality. He preferred to let sleeping dogs lay with that one. It wasn’t like he had ever liked anyone besides Kageyama. So, it never really came up. He tried to think of why Kageyama would choose to do something so life-altering. It felt like an intrusion to ask.</p><p>The station was massive, but it was mostly empty. The work force was either home for the night or not yet concerned about missing the last train. They came to the gate and Kageyama stopped.</p><p>“I’m on a different line from here,” he explained.</p><p>Shouyou nodded, feeling tired from the weight of the night. “Thanks for showing me around.” He held up his purchases from the record store and said, “and thanks for helping me find these!”</p><p>Kageyama looked embarrassed, his eyes darting around, until they came to rest on Shouyou’s face. He disentangled his own bag from the record shop and held it out for Shouyou. </p><p>“You got it for me?” Shouyou asked, confused. “Are you sure?”</p><p>Kageyama nodded, but didn’t say anything else. </p><p>Shouyou took the bag in his hand. It was obviously a record. He wondered if it was one of the ones he had chosen not to buy at the store. But, Kageyama didn’t have time to buy it when Shouyou had told him to put the leftovers back.</p><p>He leaned into Kageyama’s space with a devilish grin. “Is this why you lost the challenge?” </p><p>Kageyama gave him a shove, forcing Shouyou’s feet to fully meet the floor. He laughed as he clutched the bag to his chest. “You threw a competition? You’ve changed a lot in the past five years!”</p><p>“Shut up and open it.” Kageyama crossed his arms.</p><p>“You sure?” He double-checked. When Kageyama nodded, Shouyou opened the bag. He slid the record out and looked at the title.</p><p>“Sleepwalk by Santo &amp; Johnny,” he read English on the cover aloud. He stared at it for a couple moments. He didn’t recognize it. Still, Kageyama had picked it out for him.</p><p>“Thanks, Kageyama, that was really cool of you!” He put the vinyl back in the bag. He felt instantly buoyed by the gift. It gave him hope that they could succeed in patching their friendship back together. A kernel of Shouyou’s previous adoration and affection for Kageyama tried to rise to the surface, but he pushed it down. He wouldn’t let his silly heart ruin this for him again.</p><p>For a moment, they faced each other. Shouyou’s hands itched to reach out to Kageyama, but what he had confided in Shouyou didn’t change anything.</p><p>“You’ll miss your train,” Kageyama told him.</p><p>Shouyou turned to look at the electronic timetable behind him. He squawked as he realized his train said “now arriving.”</p><p>“Shit, shit, shit,” Shouyou scrambled to tap into the gate. He called over his shoulder, “see you next week!”</p><p>Kageyama lifted his hand to wave goodnight. </p><p> </p><p>As he rode the subway, Shouyou thought about the vinyl Kageyama had given him. It was true he didn’t really recognize the name, but Kageyama didn’t seem the kind of person to be into old, American music. </p><p>Shouyou opened youtube and typed the title into the search bar. He fished his earphones out of his pockets, careful not to send small change flying all over the subway car. </p><p>When he plugged in, <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/1u1PzGnsWKjAwSZ9Rg1kjD?si=BurvWdz2RZKwX1ZfKWdenQ">he pressed play</a>. The song was the same one Konoha had taught him on the guitar during his first year. Shouyou had played it over and over, enjoying the whining tune every time. He had never learned the name of it, until now. </p><p>He looped through the song several times, enjoying the hollow sound of the steel guitar. His stop came, and he dialed his phone as soon as he stepped out of the station. </p><p>It rang twice before Kageyama’s deep voice whispered into the receiver. He must have still been on the train. “Hello?”</p><p>“How did you know what song that was? The vinyl?” The tears Shouyou had kept inside on the river were making bright tracks against his cheeks in the moonlight.</p><p>“I heard it one day.”</p><p>“It doesn’t have any words.”</p><p>“There are apps for that, dumbass. I gotta go. Goodnight.”</p><p>Shouyou sniffed and said, “goodnight, Kageyama.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A lot of this was based on my own experience in Osaka, but obviously I'm going to mess up/fictionalize stuff. Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Can You Already Feel It?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He looked at Kageyama as if to say, are you this stupid, but the answer would be yes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let me link <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4QKC0u7bWlC4ZMoeQy5VYL?si=sLxBEo5aQbiGu3dDrwLzDg">Kagehina's playlist</a> again. </p><p>This chapter's title comes from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/5wCVLW9qMtIY9IkBeyYnh6?si=JOm6r-T9TtG2KfNKykRx7Q">When Am I Going to Lose You by Local Natives</a>.</p><p>Starting next week, we're down to one chapter per update. We're at the halfway point! Thanks for reading &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The winter of Shouyou’s third year of high school began abruptly. The snow started earlier than usual, making it harder and harder for him to bike during the freezing morning hours. His healed collarbone ached from the low temperature, and he hoped against hope that this didn’t happen every winter. The Friday morning air was waking up around him, with the sun slow and lazy to rise above the horizon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he controlled his descent down the mountain, he wondered what Kageyama would want for his birthday. He had the weekend to plan something before Monday, but even after being friends with Kageyama for almost 3 years, Shouyou felt like he couldn’t pin him down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama enjoyed few things outside of art. He took his job as the art club’s president very seriously. His critiques were harsh, but his praise was equally as thorough, highly technical with zero emotional attachment.  Shouyou laughed every time Kageyama left an awed and confused underclassman in his wake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The school’s gate came into view. Shouyou rolled over the lip of it slowly, still thinking about Kageyama’s coming birthday. As he locked up his bike for the day, he figured he could bake him a cake. He had a liking for dark chocolate that Shouyou could never understand, but he figured he could buy or figure out how to make some kind of fruit filling to pair with the intense flavor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The snow was quickly turning to slush as he walked to change into his school shoes. He didn’t know when it would finally decide to stick. He both longed for and dreaded it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed summer, especially the one that had just passed, the last of his high school years. Kageyama had spent much of it bent over his sketchbook as he practiced drawing Shouyou’s hands. Every time Shouyou even so much as twitched, Kageyama had reached over to reposition him. And if Shouyou had moved on purpose just to feel the warmth of Kageyama’s perfect hands over his own? Well, Shouyou figured he could be allowed at least that much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first bell was still about 45 minutes away as Shouyou climbed the stairs to the club room hallway. After Akaashi had graduated last spring, Shouyou had been allowed to keep the band club room even though he was the only member. He mostly played the guitar his mother had given him as a birthday present in his second year.  It was lonely without his upperclassmen, and he spent much of his time across the hall annoying Kageyama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of unlocking his own club room, he rolled open the door to the art club room without even checking to see if it was locked. Now that Kageyama was the key carrier for his club, he spent even more time locked away in this bright tower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama stood in the far corner of the club room. His fingers were pressed softly against the petals of the potted blue violets in the corner. With his other hand, he watered them with a small cup. The art club worked together to keep them vibrant, even as the temperature continued to plummet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou loved it when Kageyama was excited or even annoyed. In those times, Kageyama’s words flowed smoothly, even if they were sharp like knives. He didn’t pause to think and rethink, hiding or changing his meaning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, Shouyou also liked Kageyama’s quiet moments of concentration when Shouyou knew he was thinking about the names of shades of blue or the perfect angle of a brushstroke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He announced his presence, “I feel like one day you’re going to just bring a sleeping bag to school with you and never leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s shoulder tensed in surprise and the remaining water in the cup spilled over. He sucked on a tooth and looked around for something to clean up the spill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou crossed the room, weaving through easels holding incomplete projects. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to Kageyama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” he mumbled as he took the clean square in his hand, the tips of his fingers brushing against Shouyou’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Kageyama finished cleaning, Shouyou wandered over to Kageyama’s workspace at the collapsible table in front of what Kageyama constantly insisted was the best window in the room and could Shouyou “get out of the light already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dragged a stool away from one of the easels and sat down. A moment later, Kageyama joined him, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. As soon as he sat down, Shouyou asked, “What do you want to do for your birthday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama rolled his eyes as he took out a sketchbook from his book bag. “It’s on Monday, so I don’t really care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou groaned, knocking his shoulder against Kageyama. “You’re so boring! You’re probably like”- Shouyou sat up straight and flattened his hair against his head in an imitation of Kageyama- “‘I don’t have time for fun because I need to finish my portfolio since I’m going to university, unlike your unmotivated ass.’” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou fluffed his hair back up when he was finished. Kageyama was looking at him with murderous intent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou sighed, “what? I thought my impression was excellent that time. Was my voice still too high?” It wasn’t Shouyou’s fault Kageyama’s voice was denser than the bottom of the ocean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama picked up a pencil and started drawing the pretty violets on the other side of the club room from memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou watched him for a couple minutes before pulling out an English worksheet he had forgotten to finish the night before. He couldn’t wait to be done with class and exams. He didn’t really know what he wanted from the future. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’re unmotivated or whatever,” Kageyama said without looking up from the violets that were beginning to form on the page. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s heart skipped a beat, like it always did when Kageyama picked up on his insecurities when they bubbled to the surface. He reached over to Kageyama’s sketchbook and drew a smiley face in the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dumbass!” Kageyama grunted. He threw his hand over Shouyou’s head and tried to squeeze his brain out of his skull. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou yelled in protest, “Meanie-yama, stop I need these brain cells.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama gave him one more shake before removing his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I won’t do anything for your birthday then,” Shouyou threatened, sticking his tongue out at Kageyama. He was satisfied when Kageyama’s lip curled in disgust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really mind either way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was true. In their first year, Kageyama had been more melancholy than usual when his birthday arrived. Ever since they had burned the torii gate painting together, Shouyou had been afraid to ask Kageyama questions about his life and his family. It felt less like a line and more like a cliff. If he stepped into that unknown, he wasn’t sure if he could find his way back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead of asking why Kageyama was so sullen about his birthday, Shouyou had given him a gacha prize that had been a miniature Monet piece he had found at the mall. It had looked ridiculously small in Kageyama’s massive hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In their second year, Shouyou had caught the flu and missed the last week and half of school before the New Year’s holidays and Kageyama’s birthday. He was keen on making up for it this year, but Kageyama wasn’t helping him come up with ideas.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as classes were dismissed for the day, Shouyou headed for the art club room. The underclassmen greeted Shouyou as soon as he popped his head in. The collapsable table had been folded up and leaned against the one of the walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the captain of this sinking ship?” Shouyou asked as he searched for a stool to sit on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the other third year students in the club said, “he’s meeting with his homeroom teacher to practice for his interview.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou gave an impressed whistle. “Some place he’s applying to…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the second year girls with a streak of pink paint on her cheek nodded along. She had a bad habit of gesturing with her brushes. “We’ve had only a few alumni get in. Some even chose to wait the year to try and test in again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>College entrance exams made Shouyou squeamish. He didn’t envy the people going through examination hell. His own meetings with his homeroom teacher and his mother had been tense. He had insisted that he didn’t want to go to university. His mother had given in when he had promised he would find something before graduation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He braced his feet on one of the rugs of the stool and balanced his arms and head on his knees as he watched his best friend’s clubmates create, create, and create. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, Hinata,” one of the first year boys said his name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering if, um.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second year with paint on her face giggled at the floundering first year. She rescued him, “we were wondering if you’d bring over your guitar. We like hearing you play.” Her cheeks glowed brighter than paint on her cheek. A few sounds of encouragement rippled through the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou suddenly felt shy, even though he practiced in front of them all of the time. He fidgeted under their stares for a moment before saying okay. He hopped across the hall and retrieved his guitar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He returned to his stool and put his guitar in his lap. He didn’t have anything he was particularly working on. Shouyou plucked an odd little rhythm, enjoying the occasional scratch as he slid his fingers up and down the frets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I was thinking,” Shouyou said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear him. They all craned their necks to give him their attention. “I’m going to bring a cake for Kageyama on Monday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A cake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why on Monday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh-” Shouyou paused his playing “-it’s his birthday on Monday.” The effect was instant. Everyone heaved a loud “what” in unison. The third years scrambled to grab some control. They offered to go shopping for a gift for Kageyama, and the second years shot back that it should be the younger students’ responsibility to look for something. Shouyou offered to do the shopping, but everyone in the room turned on him with fake polite smiles saying they would take care of it since Shouyou was already generous enough with the cake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need money to help buy it?” They asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shook his head and grinned, “I was going to bake it myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so talented, Hinata!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the third year girls stage whispered that Shouyou’s baking was famous in his first year from when he brought cookies to sell at the cultural festival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys need to stop flattering me so much, I might melt,” Shouyou warned, but their attention had turned away from him and to the daunting task of buying Kageyama a present. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his attention back to his guitar, plucking out the sad little tune he was so fond of playing. He wiggled his fingers over each string, making them cry. Whenever he played it, he channeled all his worries: about Kageyama, about the future. It was easier to confine them to these notes as he traveled across the strings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Kageyama going off to university, Shouyou wondered how his one-sided love would end. Would they maintain their friendship? They weren’t really the type of friends to message each other all of the time, but maybe that was because of their current proximity. The idea of them drifting apart made Shouyou’s chest ache like a hole was opening inside of his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The art club members quieted as they discussed Kageyama’s birthday plans. Their whispers pushed and pulled like water against the shore. It tickled Shouyou’s ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A movement by the open door caught Shouyou’s eyes. Kageyama was leaning on the door jamb, watching his clubmates talk together in their huddle. Without stopping his playing, Shouyou watched the stress fall from Kageyama’s shoulders. He knew he was worried about the upcoming interview. Words seemed to stick inside Kageyama’s mouth like peanut butter, especially when he had to talk about himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s face relaxed, looking beautiful and pensive. The fondness in his expression made Shouyou smile to himself. Maybe there were things Kageyama loved as much as he loved art. Maybe he loved his clubmates, like any good club president should. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s fingers slid off the wrong string, upsetting the chord, when Kageyama turned that fond look on Shouyou. All the love Shouyou had for him threatened to fall out of his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had been so many times when Shouyou had vaguely wondered if there was a chance that maybe, just maybe, Kageyam might feel the same way about him. All the near smiles, the subtle touches, and all the time they spent in each other’s orbit pointed to… something. Kageyama drew no one else. His sketchbooks were filled with Shouyou and only Shouyou. Everything else was places: views from gorgeous mountain tops and dense forests. They were voids waiting to be filled, but never were. But Kageyama had drawn him in the grass by the riverbed. He slotted Shouyou into scenes that only existed on parchment and canvas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Kageyama standing in the doorway, Shouyou decided that Kageyama had already shown him the depths of how much he thought of Shouyou. Soon, Shouyou would be the one to show Kageyama what fluttered under his own skin. He would confess before Kageyama was swallowed by the great unknown of university. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou spent the entire weekend pouring over his mother’s recipe books, and he even booted up the ancient desktop his family had for a computer to search for the perfect recipe for a fruit filling to the birthday cake. When the time came, Shouyou chose to make a blueberry filling, heavily sugared to offset the bitter dark chocolate cake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his little sister with him to the grocery store where they spent way too much time pretending to select odd flavors for the cake’s construction. They returned home and set their sights on creating the most perfect cake known to mankind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, she lost interest and fell asleep long before Shouyou put it in the oven. Alone, he made the filling, making it just a touch less sweet than he would like, because he knew that Kageyama would enjoy it. He loved the process, making sure everything was to Kageyama’s tastes. He wondered if this was why girls chose to make their own sweets for their crushes every Valentine’s Day. Unlike the girls who hoped for reciprocated love on White Day, Shouyou wanted to use this opportunity to create a good birthday memory for Kageyama.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On Monday morning, he took the bus in order to protect the cake from the elements. Before he had left school the previous Friday, Shouyou had asked the cooking club if he could borrow one of their fridges to keep the dark chocolate glaze and the fruit filling at a good temperature throughout the day. They had agreed readily, because they knew that Shouyou was an excellent baker from his mild fame from the bake sale his first year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At lunch time, two of the art club second years came to his classroom to tell him they had successfully bought a present for Kageyama. They asked him to sign the card they had bought and returned to their classrooms when he was done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were gone, Shouyou all but skipped to Kageyama’s classroom. He popped his head into the doorway, warbling the happy birthday song in English before he even saw Kageyama. Quick on the uptake, what remained of Kageyama’s classmates joined in and crowded around Kageyama. For his part, Kageyama looked mortified, the tips of his ears turning scarlet and the line of his mouth scrunched together like he had bitten a lemon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were done singing, a few of the boys slapped Kageyama on the back and went back to their own lunches. The girls were a chorus of “happy birthday”’s as they dispersed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou pulled an empty chair up to Kageyama’s desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how does it feel to be 18?” Shouyou asked, leaning an arm on the desk. He grinned at his embarrassed friend, enjoying the way he shrank from the attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama pulled his lunch box from his desk. “Not much different from 17,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou hummed, not believing him. He pressed into Kageyama’s space, looking at Kageyama’s lunch box. “Did your mom make you anything special?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama shoved him, forcing him back into his seat. He opened the lunch box and revealed the boring fare: white rice and leftovers from dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I make my own lunch, dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see your lunch is as boring as you are,” Shouyou shrugged. He pulled out the cheese bread he had bought from a convenience store on his way to school. He had been so preoccupied with the cake, he had forgotten to make himself a lunch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s next exhale made Shouyou lift an eyebrow at him. “You laughing at me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your lunch is more pathetic than mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Affronted, Shouyou said, “Well you know why-” but he stopped himself in time. He wouldn’t let Kageyama's jabs blind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it is,” he decided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama lifted an eyebrow, surprised the conversation didn’t devolve into bickering. Shouyou finished his bread quickly, using it to keep him from talking about the birthday cake. He was too excited about giving it to Kageyama.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can have some of my lunch, if you’re still hungry,” Kageyama offered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have anywhere to put it,” Shouyou countered, waving his hand at the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama rolled his eyes and flipped his comically small chopsticks around in his hand. “Don’t come crying to me when your stomach growls in class,” he warned as he scooped up some rice and veggies. He offered the bite to Shouyou, who was contemplating pretending to faint to get out of this new, mortifying ordeal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Kageyama as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>are you this stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but the answer would be yes. Shouyou allowed Kageyama to feed him in front of God and anyone in the classroom watching them out of the corner of their eyes. When Kageyama scooped up one more serving of food, Shouyou wondered if this embarrassment was a part of love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After school, Shouyou nearly ran to the fridge in the cooking club’s kitchen. One of the third years in Kageyama’s class teased him about being too sweet on his boyfriend, but Shouyou adamantly denied romantic involvement with Kageyama.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His brain is just pickled from all the turpentine,” Shouyou explained before thanking them for their generosity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to run to the art club room in hopes of beating Kageyama there, but he walked carefully, cradling the cake as gently as he could. As he avoided hitting people in the crowded hallways, he thought about Kageyama’s actions. Shouyou had always figured that their friendship was normal. They were nearly always touching. When they walked together, they would bump into each other since they had no real concept of personal space. When they were in crowded, busy spaces, Kageyama would throw an arm over Shouyou, but he had always thought it was a holdover from that first summer. Heck, they even held hands when Shouyou was excited, pulling Kageyama along, setting the pace. Shouyou enjoyed the contact, welcomed it wholeheartedly from the perspective of his crush on Kageyama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, he considered how Kageyama felt about all the contact. It was Kageyama that touched Shouyou so gently as he positioned him for the next sketch; it was the same Kageyama that had just fed him like a lover. It was all further evidence that suggested that Kageyama might- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time was running out, and Shouyou knew he had to tell Kageyama before it was too late. He just didn’t know when.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Shouyou opened the door to the art club room with his foot, a collective gasp went through the room. Quickly, it was followed by a round of sighs as the club members realized it was just Shouyou. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, you brought the cake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We sent one of the first years to distract Kageyama,” one of the third year members explained after showing Shouyou where he should put the cake down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou  nodded after he slid the cake onto the collapsable table.“Good idea, less chance of him yelling at a first year.” He gently pried the box open and flattened down the side of the box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dark chocolate coating wasn’t as bright as Shouyou had hoped, the mirror glaze looking dull after setting. The art club students were impressed, at least, and Shouyou hoped Kageyama would like it, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door rolled open again, and this time Kageyama entered, talking to the first year that had been sacrificed. He barely noticed the decorations until party streamers were floating all around him as party poppers exploded in the hands of his underclassmen. Instantly, Kageyama’s shoulders scrunched up to his ears, but they slowly relaxed as he looked around the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, everyone in the room yelled, “Happy Birthday, Kageyama!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his time looking around the room, at the smiling faces of his art club. Slowly, Kageyama walked to the collapsable table where Shouyou was standing with the cake. One of the second years handed Shouyou a cone shaped party hat, too afraid to give it to Kageyama herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou closed the distance between them. Kageyama still hadn't spoken, too awed by the display of love and respect from his club. Shouyou stretched out the elastic of the party hat as a way of asking if he could put it on Kageyama. Still too stunned to argue, Kageyama stooped slightly to allow Shouyou to set the hat on his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kageyama stood back to his full height, Shouyou thought he saw his shoulders shaking a little bit. Probably a trick of the waning afternoon light. Shouyou jogged around to the opposite side of the table to present the cake to Kageyama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I baked you a cake, since I didn’t know what to get you as a present! It’s dark chocolate since you don’t really like sweet things, and it’s got a blueberry filling since you probably wouldn’t want something that would overpower the bitterness, too much! And uh-” Shouyou’s brain stalled as Kageyama’s face still didn’t betray any reaction “-oh and the art club has something for you, too! Since you’re such a great club president- did I tell you that’s a shocker? That you’re a good president I mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Shouyou finally tapered off, allowing the other third years in the club to step up and hand Kageyama a beautifully wrapped package that could only be another art reference book paired with the card everyone had signed together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kageyama felt the weight of the book in his hand, it seemed he finally came back from whatever alternate dimension his brain had gone to on vacation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was scratchy when he tried to say thank you. He cleared his throat and tried again in a clearer voice than before. “Thank you.” Kageyama coughed and dug the palm of his free hand into one of his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s heart missed enough beats that if he was behind his drums, Konoha would have yelled at him for being careless. He wondered if this little party would chase away the monster that lurked in the corner of Kageyama’s world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked around the table ready to cut the cake. With a groan, he broke the sentimental mood. “Guys, I didn’t bring a knife to cut the cake.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room erupted into a cacophony of rich laughter, basking in the expected carelessness of one Hinata Shouyou.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After Shouyou ran back up to the cooking club to sheepishly ask for a large knife to borrow to cut and serve the cake, he sat at the table watching Kageyama eat a slice of his cake. His eyes had sparkled when Shouyou had cut into the cake and revealed the dark fruit filling within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou bent over his knees as he had them propped up on one of the rungs of the stool he was sitting on. He tried to hide his happy grin behind his arm, beaming because Kageyama looked so happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was your mock interview last Friday,” Shouyou asked, his jacket sleeve muffling the question. Despite the noise level of the room, Kageyama understood him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terrible,” he answered without his mood dipping. He took another big bite of cake. “This is really good.” He narrowed his eyes as he gave what was left of his slice a thorough examination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The complement set Shouyou’s face on fire. He rubbed his burning cheeks across his arm. “The glaze didn’t come out how I wanted it to, though,” he admitted. He had hoped it would shine like Kageyama’s jet black hair, but perfection was impossible to reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It tastes fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s to hide the poison,” Shouyou laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama huffed. “Better have another slice, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou uncurled himself to cut another piece of cake for Kageyama. He mocked his friend as he clumsily slapped it into the plate in his hand. “Greedy-yama doesn’t want to share his cake! I’m shocked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama glared at him, jabbing his fork into the slice without looking. Shouyou held up his hands like a robber caught at the scene. “Alright, alright, eat your cake, that’s what it’s for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop waving the knife around like a lunatic, dumbass,” Kageyama warned him. Warmth dripped off his words, his expression as soft as he had been when he had caught Kageyama staring last Friday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious, Hinata, put down the knife.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit,” Shouyou squeaked, “yeah, haha.” He placed the knife back down on the table. He turned the subject back to Kageyama’s mock interview. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess if your people skills still suck, we’ll need some divine intervention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha?” Kageyama asked, his mouth full. Shouyou’s lip curled in disgust as some of the cake flew out Kageyama’s mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing on New Year’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama was going to answer, his mouth still full of cake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, no shhh, don’t answer, I don’t want to get sprayed,” Shouyou said. “Stop talking with your mouth full, before I pick the knife back up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama finished his bite of cake. “Nothing, my parents will probably stay in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should go to a temple, then, hit up a shrine, anything to get you into your fancy pants university.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s neutral not-a-frown folded into an actual-frown, but he nodded. “Beats being cooped up in the house all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou didn’t like that Kageyama’s demeanor had changed, but he figured the shocked and happy Kageyama couldn’t stay and play forever. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The morning of January first, Shouyou hopped on his bike, too impatient to wait for the holiday schedule bus. The sun lingered in the east, painting the sky a delicate pink as it chased away the darkness of the last night of the previous year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He met Kageyama half way down the other side of the mountain. Kageyama rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he rolled up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why aren’t you wearing any gloves?” Shouyou asked, hopping off his bike in favor of walking next to his best friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama yawned and stretched out his long arms high into the sky. “I forgot them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou weaved his bike by its handles as they continued back up the side of the mountain. “My mom says that you increase your risk for arthritis when you don’t wear gloves in the winter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama squinted. “That sounds like pseudoscience.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A nice way to say I think your mom lied to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shot out his leg to kick Kageyama. When he successfully made contact, he laughed in triumph. “Teach you to call my mom a liar!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they got closer to the nearby shrine and temple, Shouyou locked his bike into a set of racks. To stay warm, he walked around Kageyama, circling him like some kind of bird of prey. The sky was clear, but the temperature stayed stuck below zero. The road had been cleared of snow the day before in preparation for the increased traffic of people trekking up the mountain to make their first visit of the year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon, the road became more of a path as they drew nearer to the shrine outside the temple. Shouyou was in awe of all the white surrounding them. It blanketed everything: the trees, the shrubs, the weathered signs, the top of a bright red torii gate-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slammed into Kageyama’s back. He lingered there for a moment, enjoying the excuse to touch him. After a moment, he stepped back and asked, “why’d you stop?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama was stuck staring at the gate. He brought his hands up to his face and blew on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Shouyou said a kernel of understanding rattled around in his head. “Kageyama, we didn’t have to come here we-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter, dumbass.” Kageyama started walking toward the shrine again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Doesn’t matter, my ass, I’m just trying-” Shouyou didn’t know what he was trying to do. Was he trying to be considerate? Was he trying to understand? Was he trying to help Kageyama? Together they gave a short bow before passing under the gate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They came up to the water to rinse their hands, the area void of life. Shouyou was surprised by the lack of activity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s empty.” Shouyou took off his gloves and picked up a ladle to pour the frigid water over his hands. Next to him, Kageyama did the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why I wanted to come here,” Kageyama huffed. He made a face as the cold water overflowed from his cupped hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shouyou didn’t know if Kageyama was a misanthrope or if he knew that crowded places still made Shouyou’s heart want to crawl out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were finished, Shouyou handed his gloves to Kageyama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put these on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My hands aren’t microscopic like yours,” Kageyama argued while pushing away Shouyou’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Shouyou countered, “they’re stretchy, you bean pole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama swiped at Shouyou so fast, he braced for a whack on his head or side. However, Kageyama just quickly grabbed the gloves and shoved his hands into the fabric, probably still warm from Shouyou’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Side by side, they went up to the bell and the collection box. Kageyama reached out to ring the bell. The sound bounced around the quiet scene, the trees drinking up the vibrations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Shouyou dug out three 1,000 yen bills and threw them into the collection box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama watched them slip through the cracks with wide eyes.“What the hell!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are asking the gods for a miracle,” Shouyou explained. “Small price to pay for your happiness don’t you think?” He slammed his eyes shut to avoid the conversation and clapped his hands together. He asked the universe to make Kageyama’s dreams come true, and maybe, he also asked for the courage to confess his feelings before it was too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not your price to pay,” Kageyama mumbled. Shouyou let it slide. He heard Kageyama toss in some coins. They jingled to the bottom of the box in time with Kageyama’s two claps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They raised their heads at the same time, but Shouyou felt a little disappointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s with that face,” Kageyama asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kind of wish we went somewhere bigger so we could get some fortunes,” Shouyou explained as they stepped away from the shrine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s lips pinched together, his nose scrunching like the world’s scariest rabbit. “I didn’t think about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked out of the shrine’s grounds. Shouyou hummed a little tune to himself. He was nervous, worrying about the rest of the school year. He wasn’t sure what awaited him on the other side. He didn’t yet know if he wanted to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I’d rather not pull a fortune,” he decided out loud. “I think I’d throw a fit if it was anything less than great luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama bopped him on the top of the head, not as hard as usual. “Aren’t you greedy,” he chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faking offense, Shouyou grabbed Kageyama’s hands, pulling at the gloves. “If you’re going to be rude, you don’t deserve warm hands!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama shook out of Shouyou’s grasp and picked up his pace, eventually speeding up into a jog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get back here Kageyama! Thief!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama turned his head to yell back, “you gave these to me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou ran down the mountain to follow him. “I let you borrow them, and I can take them back whenever I want!” The wind from their rapid descent lashed his blushing cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at that pace, loser!” Kageyama said, pushing his running even harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the way down the mountain, Shouyou screamed Kageyama’s name over and over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally stopped at their original meeting point, they were out of breath and sweaty. Kageyama peeled off Shouyou’s gloves and slapped his shoulder with a snap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou snatched them back and said between gasping breaths, “see- that’s all-ha- you- ha you had to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More fun to watch you looking like a dying fish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give it back!” Shouyou grabbed a hold of Kageyama’s jacket and gave him a good shake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands shaking from the run, Kageyama tried to pry Shouyou off of him. “I already did, dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smacked Kageyama’s hand. “No, give me back my 3,000 yen! You don’t deserve it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t tell you to drop that much money on a prayer.” Kageyama pressed his hand hard against Shouyou’s arm, finally forcing him to let go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want you to get into your fancy university, asshat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, Shouyou slowly pulled his gloves back on. They chased the winter chill away from his fingertips. He felt the embrace of Kageyama’s lingering warmth in the fabric. Noticing Kageyama watching him as he forced the gaps between the fingers to be flush against his skin, Shouyou stuck his tongue out at Kageyama.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama rolled his eyes. “Tell you what, if I get into my ‘fancy university-” he said in the same whiny tone Shouyou had used “-I’ll pay you back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Excited, Shouyou leaned into Kageyama’s space on the tip of his toes. “How will you pay me back? Are you going to treat me to dinner?” It was a normal question. They had gone out before, but Shouyou’s real meaning and hopes threatened to surface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama shoved Shouyou’s head out of his space and said, “yeah, maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the confirmation, Shouyou jumped high into the air. “Yay! We’re gonna have yakiniku!” With his feet back on the ground, he grabbed Kageyama’s arms and spun them around. “Yakiniku! Yakiniku!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds more-” Kageyama started to argue, but he stopped. Shouyou stopped spinning them around, only slightly dizzy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s face was oddly serious, like he was thinking about something important. His eyes were clear and bright in the light of the morning. Shouyou’s heart slammed into his ribs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it,” Shouyou breathed out, afraid to upset Kageyama’s thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you left your bike up the mountain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou groaned and yelled in frustration, “shit!”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple weeks later in the band club room, Kageyama asked Shouyou a question that made him drop his pick into the hole of his acoustic guitar. The resulting dull clack made Shouyou curse. He upended the instrument, turned it over in his hands, and shook it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the pick rattled around, Shouyou said, “what did you say?” He didn’t trust his ears. He probably heard Kageyama wrong over the song Shouyou had been strumming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama didn’t look up from the onigiri he was unwrapping, the plastic string pinched between his fingers growing longer by the millisecond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked if you wanted to come over this weekend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pick fell out of the guitar at the same time Shouyou’s stomach fell out of his body. Quickly, he bent over to grab the pick off the floor. He hoped the movement would mask his glowing cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will your parents be okay with it? I can ask my mom if you can come over if you really want to hang out,” Shouyou offered, confused about this change in Kageyama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The onigiri now devoid of plastic, Kageyama set it off to the side and began to unsheath the second onigiri on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re going to be out of town.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s brain took off in several directions and snapped back together from the strain, like a good rubber band. He focused on two related things: Shouyou’s crush on Kageyama and the suspicion he had that Kageyama felt the same way. Now, Kageyama was asking Shouyou to come over. To his house. Alone. Just the two of them. It wasn’t a confession, but Shouyou could hear the waves of his heart in his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’d be fun, I bet,” Shouyou mumbled. He played with the capo on the frets of the guitar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool, Saturday night?” Kageyama asked and shoved almost a whole onigiri into his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saturday,” Shouyou repeated, but something scratched the back of his brain. “Wait, isn’t your interview on Sunday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama nodded but elected to cram the rest of the onigiri in his mouth. It made it impossible for Kageyama to elaborate. Shouyou turned his attention back to the song he had been playing, his fingers feather light as they danced over the strings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou knew Kageyama was nervous about his interview. If it was Shouyou, he wouldn’t want to be alone with his thoughts all night. He was gratified that Kageyama would want Shouyou to keep him company as his future came hurtling at him full speed. It made Shouyou hopeful that their friendship could survive anything, least of all the coming separation following graduation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up at Kageyama as he crammed the second onigiri into his mouth. Bits of rice stuck to his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking in a lower volume than the music he was making, Shouyou said to himself, “you’re in love with that gross idiot, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama lifted his eyebrow. His mouth was still full of rice and probably tuna, but he made the universal what-did-you-say noise in his throat. How he didn’t choke on all the food in his mouth, Shouyou didn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said, ‘I hope you don’t choke.’”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s how Shouyou ended up outside Kageyama’s house for the first time in nearly three years. From the front door, he could see the sun shining through the top branches of the tree outside Kageyama’s window. He didn’t know if he should thank or curse the tree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a shaking hand, he rang the doorbell. He shifted the grocery bags in his hands as he waited. Through the door, he heard the scuff of shoes. Kageyama opened the door. Shouyou tried to crane his neck to see into the house behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama noticed Shouyou’s eye line. He said, “I told you, they’re not home.” As Shouyou came into the entrance, he found that it was true. Three sets of slippers were lined at the edge of the entrance; one pair, Kageyama’s, was knocked askew. Kageyama pointed out which pair Shouyou could borrow. Shouyou removed his overnight bag from his shoulder. Then, he loosened the tight straps of his guitar case across his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you bring your guitar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shot Kageyama a look. “I don’t know, grumpy-yama, do you think you’re not going to stress draw for half the night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama put his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hungry?” Kageyama asked. “I haven’t had lunch yet.” His eyes dropped down to the bags in Shouyou’s hands. “What’s all that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou smiled and swung one of the bags into Kageyama’s gut. He caught it with an “oof.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just some stuff. I figured since your parents aren’t here, I’d make you a celebration dinner!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked into the small kitchen together. Kageyama put the bag he had been entrusted with on the counter. Shouyou didn’t know how Kageyama could look so excited and still be frowning. Maybe, Shouyou was just good at reading Kageyama’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t been accepted yet,” Kageyama reasoned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shook his head as he fished the package of pork out from one of the bags. “But you will be!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After some back and forth, Shouyou agreed to let Kageyama help him make the curry, if only because Shouyou didn’t know where anything was in the kitchen. He forced Kageyama to chop the carrots while Shouyou peeled and chopped the potatoes. The rhythm they set was nice. Soon, Shouyou was singing under his breath as he worked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do after high school,” Kageyama asked. The sound of the knife sliding through the carrot to tap the cutting board followed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou narrowly avoided slicing his finger open with the knife he was using to peel a potato. A spike of anxiety spiraled up from his gut and lodged itself in the vocal cords in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess I’ll try to find a job.” He set the peeled potato on the cutting board. It was the standard answer he gave everyone. Heck, he had even told Kageyama the same cookiecutter answer several times before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama pushed further for the first time. “And then what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou put down the knife next, “‘and then what’ what?” Every time he thought of the unknown after, something painful buzzed beneath his skin. It felt like an angry cluster of wasps trying to break free. He sucked in a shaky breath and made for the stove behind Kageyama to avoid the conversation and distract himself from his own thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the same time, Kageyama set down his own knife. He turned and leaned his body against the counter, blocking Shouyou from the stove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And then what will you do to stay sane? You’re not going to university; you’re not going to trade school. Are you going to be satisfied with that? What, are you just going to float around?” Kageyama’s words were harsh and true, but Shouyou didn’t want to hear them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to say, Kageyama?” Shouyou nearly stomped his foot as his embarrassment and anger bloomed out from inside him. He dug his fingers into his palms.  “I’m not a good student,” he shouted. “I’m not some genius with a beautiful portfolio! So, sorry I don’t exactly have it all figured out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s eyes danced across Shouyou’s face. He brought a hand up to his own hair and ran his fingers through it before responding, “so, what the heck have you been doing these past three years?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s eyes stung. Weren’t they here for Kageyama? Weren’t they together right now because Kageyama couldn’t stand to be alone at the edge of this cliff? He was here because Kageyama had asked him to be, but now it seemed like a trap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, Shouyou had spent his three years of high school trying to study, but he had nothing to show for that. He had joined a club that dissolved as his upperclassmen had graduated one after the other. He had spent it sitting across from Kageyama, letting him draw the awkward angles of his limbs over and over. But what did that merit him, now that he was reaching the end? The question kept repeating in his head: what had he been doing with his time? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou, so focused on not crying as he fell into the abyss of his thoughts, barely noticed Kageyama grabbing his hand. When he finally did register the fingers closing over his own, all of his willpower leaked out of him. He tried to bring both of his hands up to his face to wipe away the tears as they fell, but Kageyama pulled Shouyou to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrapped in the stiffest hug of his life, Shouyou allowed himself to cry out all the frustration that filled him from head to toe. Kageyama’s arms were a heavy, but welcomed, weight against his back. He sniffled, hoping not to get any snot on Kageyama’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gulped down trembling breath after trembling breath. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be.” He had one thing and that was music, but his mother had made it clear that it needed to be a hobby, not his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Kageyama’s hands settled into the nest of Hinata’s orange waves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll figure that out,” Kageyama promised. “I’m not worried about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou pushed away from Kageyama and tried to smile. The result hurt his face, and the movement squeezed out the remaining tears. “You’re so stupid, Kageyama. That’s what you lead with,” he scolded Kageyama and punched him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou pulled the sleeves of his shirt over his hands and wiped his face. “Damn right, you’re sorry. Now go wash the rice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In Shouyou’s opinion, the pork curry came out alright. At least it wasn’t over salted from his embarrassing waterworks from earlier. Which was all Kageyama’s fault in the first place. Yet, Shouyou did feel better, less anxious than he had been for a long time. The warm curry comforted him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ate it together at the low table in the family room under the kotatsu. A winter storm had blown in since Shouyou had arrived. It turned the world outside the windows into static.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad we made it spicy,” Shouyou said around a spoonful of curry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama grunted and poured more milk into his glass. His face was red, and he took small sips between every bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I make it too spicy, Kageyama,” Shouyou teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Kageyama lied, but Shouyou decided to let him have his pride. He changed the subject as Kageyama continued his battle against the curry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So your portfolio is finalized?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama nodded, “yeah, the club advisor helped me scan some stuff and we took pictures of some of the bigger pieces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s awesome! You should show me! Later!” Shouyou attacked his food again with renewed vigor. The spice of the curry was beginning to make Shouyou’s mouth tingle, and soon it was Shouyou holding out his empty cup to Kageyama in supplication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should let you die,” Kageyama said while pouring what remained of the carton into Shouyou’s glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then who would draw,” Shouyou teased back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The unsaid “no one” hung between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they were done eating, Kageyama collected their plates and put them in the sink. Shouyou stood up to join him, but Kageyama waved him back to the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do the dishes, and you can flip through my portfolio,” Kageyama told him. He dug it out of his book bag by the door and passed it to Shouyou. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, Kageyama are you too embarrassed to watch me look through it? That’s no good,” he said like a middle aged woman in the middle of some poor bystander’s business, “you need to be shameless when it comes to your art.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, like you?” Kageyama scoffed and went back to the kitchen to wash the dishes. The water sprayed in a satisfying loop, millisecond pause between each cycle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou appreciated the sturdy, fancy cover that held the portfolio together. The plastic sheets crinkled with every turn. Many of the pieces were Kageyama’s gorgeous landscapes. He had redone the Kobe piece in second year. Shouyou was happy Kageyama had included it. There was a pretty watercolor of the beach town they had visited during their school trip in second year. Shouyou hummed in approval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flipped through the portfolio rather quickly, familiar with the pieces inside, second only to the artist himself. His fingers stilled as he came to the prize winning piece from their first year. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wish</span>
  </em>
  <span> was just as magical as the first time Shouyou had seen it in the school lobby. The Shouyou inside the painting looked softer than the version he saw in the mirror everyday. Something wild and scared hid in his doppelganger’s bright eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Kageyama,” Shouyou called out over the gurgling of the sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Kageyama snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you ever do with my portrait?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s in my room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, it’d be embarrassing if the school had it or something,” Shouyou reasoned aloud. Though, he didn’t find it much less embarrassing that it was in Kageyama’s room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou closed the portfolio and wandered into the kitchen. “At least let me dry some of these dishes,” he insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama shook his head, “do what you want.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Like Shouyou had predicted, Kageyama was a nervous wreck as the evening began to wear on. A part of Shouyou wished Kageyama would just talk it out with him, but he knew that was the last thing Kageyama wanted. He wouldn’t be able to find the same release in it that Shouyou had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They tried to watch tv in the living room, but they were both listless and bored after about a half an hour. The kotatsu was warm, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kageyama complained about Shouyou drumming ceaselessly on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh whatever, you’re not even paying attention to the movie,” Shouyou shot back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked like he was about to retort, but Shouyou cut him off, “oh please, you keep looking out the window like the sun’s gonna come up faster if you bully it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou muted the television and stomped over to the genkan to grab his guitar. When he sat back down, Kageyama was glaring at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved Kageyama away. “Go on, go grab something, you workaholic.” Kageyama scoffed and headed for the stairs. “You better come back down here,” Shouyou called after him, “not even God himself could make me leave this kotatsu!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kageyama came back down the stairs, they fell into their usual rhythm. Shouyou hummed as he played. Occasionally, he typed out some lyrics into his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> As he picked at the strings of his guitar, he thought about the hug in the kitchen and the words that burned in his throat. He knew the basics of a confession. They were an unavoidable topic in high school. Plenty of girls wrote lovely letters on pretty stationery. That definitely wasn’t Shouyou’s style. He had classmates who had confessed to their crushes with lopsided grins that dripped with bravado and little more than the words “go out with me.” That didn’t particularly appeal to Shouyou either. He felt like his feelings for Kageyama needed more weight than that. His mind skipped over the words “I like you” like his record player stuck in its rotation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s voice brought him back to the living room. “Hey, Hinata.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?” Shouyou asked. He closed his phone and gave Kageyama his attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever been in love?” Kageyama didn’t look up from his sketchbook. His left hand rolled his eraser around the table, uncharacteristically fidgety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou fake laughed, “yeah, at least I think so. Why?” He didn’t let himself freeze up like a deer in headlights, no matter how much dread he felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you know? That you were in love,” Kageyama mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou considered the question, even as he tried to fight the blush he figured was rushing to his face. Was now the time? Was now the moment? Or would Kageyama beat him to it? He set his guitar on the floor. Folding his arms in front of him, Shouyou leaned his warm face against the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think there was a big lightbulb or anything, looking back,” he told Kageyama. “I think I realized how I felt the first time they really needed me, like when I had their trust, or something.” It felt like a good lead into the confession, if Shouyou was brave enough to say everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or something,” Kageyama parroted, sounding a little disappointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou sighed, losing his courage, “I don’t know Kageyama, you’re the one who asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama continued to play with the eraser like it was the most interesting thing in all of the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you,” Shouyou prompted. The words came out more steady that he thought possible, and he considered it a win. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou sat back up, his hands begging to reach out to Kageyama. He settled for grabbing his guitar. “Have you ever been in love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Kageyama’s next words were a flat lake, “did you ever confess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s fingers ghosted over the strings of imagined chords he wanted to play. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not, yet,” Shouyou admitted, “but I’d like to, I think.” He trained his eyes on his guitar, afraid to look at Kageyama.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Kageyama rip out a page of his sketchbook and crumple it up. “Even though you’re about to graduate,” he asked Shouyou.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He pressed down on the highest string, causing it to cry out. “I feel like I’ll regret it more if I don’t say anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess that makes sense,” Kageyama mumbled. “Good luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed like an end to the conversation, the three words Shouyou desperately wanted to say stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Thanks,” he said, but it felt bitter on his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat together as the night slipped by them. The hours were marked by indents in Shouyou’s calluses and the moments Kageyama asked Shouyou to pose for him. The requests started out as the usual fare and progressively got worse: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold your hand like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stand up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How far can you do a split?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Requests like that wore Shouyou out, and Kageyama must have seen how tired Shouyou was by the end of it. He turned off the television that had ignored the whole time and had Shouyou take his overnight bag up to Kageyama’s room. After, he showed Shouyou the bathroom and told him to have the first shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Shouyou came back to Kageyama’s room, the low table had been pushed to the corner; and a guest futon had been set out near Kageyama’s bed. He settled down on top of the futon as Kageyama left to take his own shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stillness after his departure upset Shouyou’s stomach. His nerves were still raw from crying earlier. He flipped open his phone and read the lyrics he had written about feeling unable to find the right language to love Kageyama in. They were a dramatic set of words, not yet whole. Rereading them only made him more antsy and anxious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his phone and looked around the room. The walls were white, and the old painting of Kobe Harbor had been replaced with the updated version. The buildings darker were against the night sky. The scene looked bathed in moonlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remembering what Kageyama had said, he looked around for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wish.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shouyou didn’t see it on the walls, which puzzled him. He craned his head to look at the bookcase behind him, but he knew the painting was bigger than the shelves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only other space that Shouyou could think of was the closet, which saved Shouyou some embarrassment. Yet, he had to admit it made his heart deflate a little. He didn’t like the idea of being shoved out of sight, even if it was a version of him that never existed in reality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had just seen the portrait in Kageyama’s portfolio. The photo captured it’s essence almost as perfectly as the canvas. His mind stuck on the idea of almost. Desiring to see the shade of his hair and the sharp corners of his mouth as Kageyama imagined them, he slowly crawled to the closet’s sliding door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart ran a mile a minute as he slowly pulled the door open. Kageyama’s assortment of cool colored clothes hung from their hangers. He gently parted the sea of clothing to have a good look at the floor beneath them. Through the clothes, his left hand brushed against that was hard, but still had some bounce. Shouyou knew it was a canvas leaned up against the wall of the closet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached around to grab a hold of it and slide it out of the closet. It was wrapped loosely in plain white broadcloth, stiff beneath his fingers. He propped it against his knees in front of the closet. Slowly, he unwrapped the cloth. It revealed a face that felt like an old friend and an old enemy. Sixteen year old Shouyou had been the one to fall for Kageyama. He had also been the one that didn’t know how to reach out to Kageyama, but Shouyou understood that could apply to his present self, as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed a finger on the pink scar jutting out from his doppelganger’s shirt. It was more noticeable on the canvas than it had been in the portfolio photo. Then, he put the same hand to the collar of his t-shirt, pulling it to the side. From this angle, it was difficult to see the small scar resting against his collarbone. He wondered if the color had faded at all in the past two years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Kageyama’s voice in the doorway made Shouyou jump. Fresh out of the shower, Kageyama’s hair was damp and disheveled; his face was flushed and shining in the bedroom’s lighting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou briefly considered trying to save face, but he decided to tell the truth instead. “Comparing Hinata’s.” He flipped around the canvas so the portrait faced Kageyama instead. “What do you think?” He pulled at his collar once more, saying, “has the color faded at all?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s face went through a myriad of subtle shifts before it settled on what Shouyou knew was his curious face. He held in a sigh of relief. His world tried to flip when Kageyama came closer and kneeled in front of Shouyou, looking between the doppelganger and the real Shouyou. He felt picked apart, not unlike the first time he was in this room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks a little lighter, I guess,” Kageyama observed. He reached a hand forward to brush against the painted scar. Shouyou felt the ghost of Kageyama’s fingers against the real scar, even though Shouyou knew the nerve endings along the raised line couldn’t register such a feather light touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an attempt to break the spell, Shouyou asked “why did you put me in the closet” as cheerfully as he could manage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mechanically, Kageyama took the painting out of his hands and started to wrap it back up with the cloth. “I didn’t really have anywhere to hang it up,” he mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou looked around the bright room. He knew there was plenty of space on them. He looked at Kageyama as he finished up his wrapping, seeing that the tips of his ears were pink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s heart jolted once, hard against his ribs. The realization he had kept at bay for so long surrounded him like the embrace in the kitchen. It repeated over and over in his head as Kageyma leaned the canvas against the door of the closet. It became a melody only he could hear as Kageyama flipped off the overhead light, and the streetlamp’s brilliance filtered through the blinds. It painted broad stripes across the room. The realization buzzed beneath his skin as he slid into the futon’s warm, heavy covers: Kageyama liked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They said goodnight, and Shouyou thought that sleep would quickly take Kageyama away, leaving him awake and alone in the night. The minutes ticked by, measured only by their tired breaths in the darkness. His body was exhausted but his thoughts ran rapid sprints around the track of his mind. He knew Kageyama had a hard day ahead of him, so he tried to keep his squirming to a minimum. As he counted back from 100 in an attempt to settle down, Shouyou noticed Kageyama turning in his bed over and over. After a couple sighs big enough to blow away heavy rain clouds, Kageyama’s deep voice disturbed the placid lake of night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hinata, are you still awake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what’s up?” Shouyou sat up and faced Kageyama. He was on his side in his bed, his eyes mostly covered by the tips of his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t sleep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me either,” Shouyou told him. “Way too worried about you swallowing your tongue during your interview.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama groaned in agony. He confided in Shouyou, “me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou hummed, feeling the comfort of the vibrations in his chest. “That’s no good,” he decided. He scooted closer to the bed and plopped his head on the edge of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama sniffed and wiped at his nose. “Knowing that doesn’t make it easier to stop thinking about it, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I guess you need to focus on something else,” Shouyou offered. He lifted his head and folded his arms where his head had been. It was easier to act this way in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama narrowed his eyes; he looked like the hamster on the wheel of his brain was working overtime. The silence stretched out between them. Shouyou let himself close his eyes for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any bright ideas on how?” He heard Kageyama ask. Shouyou opened his eyes a little bit and held out a hand to him. Without asking, Kageyama gave Shouyou one of his hands. Squeezing it hard, Shouyou said, “every time you think about the interview, squeeze my hand. And, I’ll squeeze it back harder. Maybe the pain will distract you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked skeptical, “how is that supposed to help me sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou leaned his tired head against the bed again, “it’s the only idea I got. Take it or leave it.” Kageyama sighed, but didn’t let go of Shouyou’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were quiet for a few minutes, until Shouyou felt Kageyama’s grip tighten on his own. When he was done, Shouyou put as much strength as he could into squeezing Kageyama’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow,” Kageyama whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You probably thought I was weak, huh?” Shouyou puffed out a small laugh. “Jokes on you, I need this super grip to keep my drumsticks from flying.” He closed his eyes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you still play the drums?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi’s work friend has access to a set, so we jam sometimes.” A yawn had threatened the end of his sentence, but Shouyou held it in until he was done speaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were quiet for so long, Shouyou thought Kageyama had finally fallen asleep. Another round of hand squeezing came and went. Shouyou was on the edge of sleep, the colors behind his eyes liquifying and mixing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the liminal space of reality and dreams, he thought he heard Kageyama say, “Don’t give up on music, dummy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou woke up to numb legs and a numb hand. When he opened his eyes, he saw the morning sunlight leaking into the room. Worried about the time, he looked around. The alarm clock on Kageyama’s bookcase told him it was just after eight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried not to fidget as the feeling came back into his legs. His hand stayed trapped beneath Kageyama’s fingers as he quietly slept. In the light of day, it felt silly to fall asleep holding hands, but if Kageyama liked him, then what did it matter?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squeezed Kageyama’s hand, even though the pins and needles that made up his nerve endings screamed out in agony. Still too deep in his sleep to register the touch, Kageyama didn’t stir. When Shouyou gained more control of his body, he waved their connected arms together while repeating Kageyama’s name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Kageyama cracked open an eye. As his bleary eyes adjusted to the lighting, he saw that their hands were still connected. Thankfully, and unfortunately, he finally released Shouyou’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou flopped to the floor, trying to bring life back to his legs. When Kageyama sat up and stretched in his bed, Shouyou said, “that was the worst idea of my life. I think I’m dying, Kageyama!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop being a baby, you’ll live,” he mumbled in return. He looked at the alarm clock, frowned, and threw back the covers. Stepping over Shouyou’s flailing body, Kageyama opened the closet to pull out a navy suit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, this is a fancy interview,” Shouyou joked when he finally stopped his dramatics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama scowled at him. “What other kind is there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shrugged and threw himself under the covers of the futon he didn’t sleep in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you seriously going back to sleep,” Kageyama asked in the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shook his head against the pillow. “No, but you’re going to take forever in the bathroom.” He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the winter blankets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama said, “whatever,” under his breath and left the bedroom to wash up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou thought Kageyama was in an alright mood, considering how he had been leading up to today. He was glad that he could be a part of the reason he seemed calmer. This interview would play a huge part in determining Kageyama’s future. That idea alone made Shouyou’s empty stomach roll in unsteady waves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled the hand that Kageyama had spent the whole night clutching like a life preserver out of the covers and up to his face. It was still stiff, proof that it hadn’t been a  fantasy. He wondered if the words he thought he heard Kageyama whisper were real, too, or the beginning of his dreams. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few more minutes, Kageyama came back, dressed in everything but the suit’s jacket. The white dress shirt made him look paler than usual, but it also highlighted how broad Kageyama’s shoulders had become since they became third years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You clean up alright,” Shouyou said when he finally climbed out from the futon. He immediately regretted leaving its warmth when he felt the chill of the room’s air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama ignored the potential compliment and said, “you should wash up. I gotta leave soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou stood up and kicked Kageyama lightly while saying, “aye, aye, sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brushed his teeth quickly after washing the sleep out of his eyes. His reflection looked too excited for the time of morning, but he chalked that up to his continued nervousness on Kageyama’s behalf. As the water ran down the drain, he made a mental checklist of everything he needed to pack back up before he left for home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He met Kageyama back in the bedroom, where Shouyou folded his belongings into his overnight bag. Together, they came back down to the ground floor where Shouyou’s guitar waited. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the genkan, Shouyou said, “make sure to finish the curry when you get back from your interview. Unless you think your parents will believe you cooked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama rolled his eyes, “I can cook just fine, dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou crossed his arms, “I’m just making sure your ass is covered.” He pulled the straps of his guitar case on his shoulders. After stepping into his shoes, he turned back around to face Kageyama. “Good luck on your- what’s that?” He pointed at the wrapped canvas in Kageyama’s hand. His eyes traveled from the outstretched painting up to Kageyama’s decidedly crimson face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should keep it,” Kageyama said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why?” Shouyou felt his own face starting to heat up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always said it was your painting.” Kageyama pushed the parcel into Shouyou’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrapping his hands around the gift, Shouyou said, “alright, alright. I’ll consider it payment for years of ridiculous posing.” He hoped his voice sounded steadier than he felt. His lungs felt like they were the size of single yen coins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I’m off,”  Shouyou said while smiling. Kageyama mumbled goodbye, and Shouyou turned to walk out the door. He shifted the painting so he was gripping it with one hand. With his free hand, he grabbed the door handle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Shouyou felt that if he opened the door and stepped out into the new day, things would never be the same. It was as if his feet were up against the cliff of the future. He wasn’t ready to dive off that cliff yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou turned back around. “Kageyama,” he said as he walked back toward the lip of the genkan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama tilted his head, confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s ears felt like they were ringing when he said, “I didn’t wish you good luck.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked like he was going to say something, his mouth opening slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without any pause or thought, Shouyou stood on his tip toes and grabbed a handful of Kageyama’s perfect, white dress shirt to pull him down. Their lips crashed together, and Shouyou shut his eyes tight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the brief moment their lips met, Shouyou felt how warm Kageyama was. His  mouth was still soft from sleep, not yet remembering how to frown. Shouyou thought he felt Kageyama kissing him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou felt Kageyama’s hands land on his shoulders, forcing him to come back down to earth. When he opened his eyes, his heart stopped beating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s face was redder than it had been when he gave Shouyou the painting. His eyes were wide, shaking with fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” was all he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no?” Shouyou asked, confused. “But you- I thought-” he was tempted to lift up the painting as an example, but he didn’t have enough strength for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t- I’m not-” Kageyama covered his mouth with his fingertips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as Shouyou’s mind spiraled, insisting on picking apart everything that happened between them for the past three years, all he could focus on was the guilt on Kageyama’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” Shouyou put his free hand in his own hair and gripped the strands at the roots. He looked down, too embarrassed for words. He took a shaky breath before turning around to head out the door like he should have in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, sorry about that,” he said without looking back behind him. “Text me later about how your interview went, yeah?” He was grasping at threads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Kageyama replied, his voice still shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou opened the door and stepped out into the blinding sunlight, and Kageyama never texted him.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's the worst this fic is going to get; I promise it's up from here!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Every Little Thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You guys are like a real band,” he said, his smile broad and blinding.<br/>“Duh,” Bokuto intoned from his seat, “what did you expect?”<br/>Shouyou had to laugh along, letting his nerves fly out of his mouth, like moths out of the dark. “No, I think I get it. It’s… what’s the word,” he thought for a moment, “it’s dissonant!”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back after last week's emotional rollercoaster... so thank you for reading this new chapter!!! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This chapter's title comes from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/7ELEklhfQQpVy3tXOZZDVp?si=nBJdBG1MQOOlcpijl0Z93A">Every Little Thing by Young the Giant</a>.<br/>Edit: <a href="https://twitter.com/sonianime">Sonianime</a> drew <a href="https://twitter.com/sonianime/status/1376597959433977859?s=20">Hinata and Kageyama on the roof</a>.  It is so beautiful please go check it out!!! Thank you so much &lt;3</p>
<p>Here's the playlist links:<br/><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1gBVMK6bop3WfbNRQXIAVG?si=2g6r-9PvSAejYTRgR_SWeQ">Of A Feather</a><br/><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4QKC0u7bWlC4ZMoeQy5VYL?si=9dfOHT7BQumaOHdK6pA3_Q">Kagehina</a><br/><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2mky0fm1xyTdSCVMXJ32XV?si=wglpUxYeSTaQoXy1cBxEEQ">Fox Glove</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The lights came up on the opening stage on their first night at Wonderland. The crowd was packed tight against the gate, a few security guards stationed every few feet of the black divide between Fox Glove’s adoring fans and Of A Feather. It was more dense than any of their shows back at the Cat’s Paw. Shouyou felt like he was finally getting a glimpse at the next level they would need to climb up to in their slow rise to fame. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>During their set, Of A Feather rolled out song after song, pausing only to mention Fox Glove’s impending arrival. Kuroo took to his job of hyping up Fox Glove very easily. One would think he had been following the band for years. His sweaty, shaky hands dropped pick after pick on the floor of the stage. Instead of bending to pick them back up, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a new pick. Rinse and repeat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they transitioned into their last song of the evening, Shouyou tapped the cymbals as fast and light as hummingbird wings. The build up had the desired effect on the audience. They pushed in closer. He pretended for a moment, that it was for his band that they were starbursts of excitement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though, he knew there was at least one person in the crowd who was there to see them. Maybe, he was standing tall in the back of the crowd, out of Shouyou’s stage-light addled line of vision. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No body has been known by your lithe fingers, those lovely, subtle knives could carve your love, carve your love.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Akaashi harmonized with Oikawa toward the end of the line, giving the song an eerie aura. Shouyou shifted his tempo. Kuroo’s electric guitar battled Akaashi’s powerful voice in the chorus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>With the vigor of perishing youth, run on tireless legs, back always to me,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Akaashi sang with a heartsick longing that Shouyou wished he didn’t know intimately. Everyone faded out, until Oikawa’s keys were the only sound left in their pocket of the universe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he, too, finished, a great whooping cheer filled the blank spaces of the air all around them. Shouyou felt dizzy from the combination of high energy drumming and praise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unlike Kitaichi, the stairs down from the stage led to the well partitioned backstage. Atsumu was waiting for them as soon as they came through the thick black curtains. He was leaning on the high table Of A Feather had left their assortment of water bottles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you guys would kill it out there. Thanks for getting them warmed up for the main event,” he said. Behind him, his twin brother, Osamu, the band’s drummer, rolled his eyes. He saw Shouyou watching him and gave him a double thumbs up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Happy to swim in the high of a well-played show, Shouyou felt his smile forming without a second thought. He stuck out his hands to return Osamu’s thumbs up. After, he grabbed and drained his water bottle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he making weird faces behind my back again?” Astumu asked. His eye roll looks exactly like his brother’s, but Shouyou felt like that should go unsaid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” he said, turning his effortless smile back to Atsumu. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, he’s already got you on his side? Damn, you work fast, ‘Samu.” He jerked his arm back, landing a rough blow to Osamu’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In return, Osamu’s thick bicep wrapped itself around Atsumu’s neck. He looked ready to flex to squeeze his brother’s windpipe, but Atsumu made a T with his hands asking for a timeout.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I gotta sing in a couple minutes, man,” Atsumu whined, smacking Osamu..</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” he said, removing his arm, “I’d probably break my arm if I tried to strangle your fat neck.” He nodded one more time at Shouyou and the rest of Of A Feather before retreating to a nearby couch where Fox Glove’s bassist sat chatting with their manager, Kita. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo peeled off from the group to strike up a conversation with Kita as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu put a self-conscious hand around his throat and asked, “Shouyou, you don’t think I have a fat neck, do you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know why Atsumu was looking to him for confirmation that his neck was just fine. He laughed, a nervous instinct. As he was about to answer, Bokuto came into the area with a squawk that sounded a lot like Akaashi’s name. Bokuto breezed past Atsumu and Shouyou, holding a hot cup of tea out in front of him. He used his free hand to make a bubble around the cup and everyone else. There was a wet spot on his white t-shirt, probably tea that had sloshed out of the cup on his daring journey through the club.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi’s eyes widened in surprise, “did you already break down our equipment?” He avoided looking at the tea, waiting for Bokuto to mention it himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto looked like he wanted to throw his arms open as he explained that Fox Glove’s team had offered to do the tear down, since it was just the guitars and Oikawa’s keys that needed packing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, I had time to grab you this! I thought that your voice might be feeling icky, you know? You’ve performed a lot this week-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi held out his hands for the tea with a small, fond smile. “Thank you, Bokuto, my throat does feel a little dry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they walked away together, Shouyou looked around for the band member who had been suspiciously quiet. After a full spin around, Shouyou asked Atsumu, “hey, where’s Oikawa?” He made one more sweep of the backstage just in case he had missed him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I saw him go out to the club,” Atsumu said with a vague gesture to the draped exit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou grinned and shook his head. “He’s gonna get mobbed for photos.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think so?” Atsumu rubbed the back of his neck. “Y’all are stealing my fans.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?! No,” Shouyou said, waving his arms about. “I’m sure they’ll still like Fox Glove the most! Right? You’ll go out on the stage and show them why they're here right?” Shouyou babbled and played air guitar to drive his point home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu cracked a smile and nodded. “You’re right, and like I said, you guys got them nice and warmed up for us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lights flickered, and someone on the couch groaned. Shouyou couldn’t tell if it was Osamu or their bassit, Suna. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou caught Osamu’s eyes again and said, “have a good show!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not gonna wish me a good show?” Atsumu asked, soundly oddly serious. When Shouyou turned his attention back to him, ready to apologize, he saw that Atsumu was failing at hiding a laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was directed at all of you,” he said, still feeling nervous. He noticed he was the last member of Of A Feather still backstage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu waved him toward the exit, “I know, I know. Go out and enjoy the show, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded and bounded out the exit. He bobbed a short bow to the security guard keeping watch and funneled out into the packed crowd. As he navigated his way to the bar and the merch table next to it, he kept his eyes sharp, watching for Kageyama. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had left his phone with Kenma during the final sound check. The walk had been easier when the crowd had only consisted of a few dozen early birds. Now, Shouyou felt like he was trying to walk through molasses. He caught sight of the higher shelves of the bar and breathed out a sigh. Eventually, he managed to pull himself out of the thick of the crowd and up to the table Kenma was sitting at.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma felt him hit the table and looked up from his phone. Tonight, he had allowed Akaashi to put his hair into a loose bun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s it been out here,” Shouyou asked, wishing he still had the water he had finished earlier. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma deigned to wobble his hand back and forth in a so-so movement. “You missed Oikawa pose for a million pictures.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou felt his lip curl. “Never been happier to hide behind the drums.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma shook his head. “I wouldn’t feel so certain. Some of the girls were asking about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably just the hair,” Shouyou countered with a shrug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma went back to his phone. “Not just the hair, right?” He nudged something on the floor next to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou jumped sky high when Kageyama’s head popped up over the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama said something, but it was drowned out by Shouyou’s yelp of surprise. “Kageyama,what are you doing down there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was hiding from Oikawa,” he said, as if that was all the explanation necessary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would- nevermind,” Shouyou decided, rubbing his face with his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama unfolded himself from his hiding place next to Kenma’s chair and stood up to his full height. He looked uncomfortably warm in his forest green button up, the sleeves rolled up as far as they could go up his forearms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the table still between them, Shouyou leaned over and asked, “How’d you like the set?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once more, Kageyama tried to speak, but the crowd began screaming as the lights on the stage went down. Shouyou whipped around to look into the darkness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Small lights at the foot of the stage came on as Fox Glove took up their instruments. Atsumu stood front and center, with Osamu at the drums behind him on a slightly elevated part of the stage. On house right, Suna slung his slick, black bass over his shoulder. Their guitarist was on house left; Aran’s dark fingers stood out against the shining strings on his frets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room felt like it was holding its breath, and in that pause, Suna spoke into his mic, voice flat as a mirror. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Love is dead.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu pressed his face into his own microphone, his body slightly angled toward Suna. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I believe in love</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he sang as an answer. The pace Aran set on his guitar sped away from the steady rhythm of Suna’s bass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Perfectionism</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Suna laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu shook his head, facing the crowd now. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The completion of the imperfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” His voice was low, almost a growl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu crashed into the song like a rapid train through a crossing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu’s voice fought to stay above it, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re searching, you’re needing, still searching and needing steadfast emotion and devotion</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou had never seen anything like it. It was jagged and intense, completely unlike the syrup Of A Feather poured out every night. The crowd was eating it up; the fans that knew Suna’s spoken lines chanted along with him every time his turn came. Shouyou was mesmerized. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I know</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Suna and the crowd said in tandem. After, Atsumu came back in to sing, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll never reach out, to act is to break, you’ll break your perfect love.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou felt Kageyama bump the table when he came around to stand next to him. As they stood side by side, he got lost in the music with Suna’s bass line forcing his heart to keep beating. It was like he was floating right out of his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the song came to a close, Kageyama nudged him with his elbow. “Are you even breathing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brought back into his own body by the contact, Shouyou sucked in a massive gulp of thick club air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess not,” Kageyama mumbled, only audible because Fox Glove weren’t yet playing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re amazing,” Shouyou breathed out, feeling dizzy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys are good, too,” Kageyama said. He turned around to say something to Kenma, but Shouyou couldn’t be bothered to concentrate on anything except the bright stage. Aran swapped guitars with a roadie while Atsumu tried to address the crowd. Their screams of adoration rocked the venue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for taking care of our friends, Of A Feather. They had a blast playin’ for y’all.” A round of claps exploded into the air. “Be sure to check out their merch table in the back if you’re interested. They’ll be joining us in Kyoto in August and a couple shows around town before then, so come join us whenever!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama walked away from Shouyou when the band started up their next song. Torn between wanting to spend time with Kageyama and wanting to watch the set, Shouyou swayed left to right, probably driving Kenma insane. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something cold brushed against his arm, making him jostle the table even more. On his right, Kageyama stood with an outstretched water bottle and an apologetic face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he mouthed, unable to compete with the music oppressing them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou waved his apology away and took the water. He was so grateful for the coolness bringing him further back into himself after all the excitement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Between songs, they chatted. They relocated to a pair of empty seats at the bar when Kenma told them to stop blocking his sales. Shouyou had hardly noticed his legs were shaking from exhaustion until he was perched on his stool. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you write a lot of the lyrics,” Kageyama asked after he ordered a rum and coke for himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded, playing with the label of his water bottle. “Yeah, me and Akaashi, but sometimes Kuroo comes up with something cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about the last song…” he drifted off, trying to remember the title. “The Creator-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, The Curator of Sweet Nothings,” Shouyou supplied. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. I really liked that one.” He passed some cash to the bartender when she brought his drink. “Did you write it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou tried to school his expression, but he was sure Kageyama could see his flush even in this dim lighting. Maybe, he would think it was just leftover from his turn at the drums earlier that night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, how’d you know?” He kept his tone light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The last line. I think I’ve heard it before.” Kageyama took a sip of his drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou uncapped his water bottle and chugged the rest of it to avoid responding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh,” he said when he was finished. Kageyama was still waiting for him to pick the conversation back up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You bought a cd right? At the first Kitaichi show,” Shouyou clarified. “It’s on there!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, I guess that’s probably it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fox Glove dropped into another hard hitting song, leaving them unable to continue talking. He silently thanked Atsumu for the loud music. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was possible that Kageyama knew the line. It was something he had used again and again when it was just him and Akaashi in the band club Shouyou’s second year of high school. It had started out the only hopeful line in a melancholy tune that Akaashi had written. It wasn’t until their first year as an official band that it had found a proper home as the closing line of Akaashi’s favorite song. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That Kageyama could remember such a throwaway piece of the past made him indescribably happy. It proved to him that Kageyama had been keeping those three years worth of memories just as treasured and safe as he had.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night after the first Wonderland show, Shouyou watched Kenma play a melee fighter game on the television in their room off the kitchen. Akaashi and Bokuto were out for the evening. There was a new romantic comedy movie out that Bokuto had been excited to see. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For his part, Oikawa had given them the stink eye as they left for their date. When they were gone, he announced he had a migraine and slammed the door of his shared room with Kuroo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s Kuroo up to tonight?” Shouyou asked Kenma as he queued for his next match. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know if he’s going out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s been in the bathroom for ages,” Shouyou pointed out. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was barely past six in the evening. “There’s no way he’s taking a bath this early.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma also noted the time and bristled. When his game started up, Shouyou was shocked to see that Kenma looked like he was losing. He kept his attention on the television, but something about Kenma felt odd. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door of the room slid open, and Kuroo came in to sit next to Shouyou. Kenma left his current game. He set the controller on the table and left the table without even looking at Kuroo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hating the weird tension in the air, Shouyou said, “Kuroo, did you do your hair?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo’s hand shot up to touch his carefully styled hair, but he stopped just short of touching it. “Does it look weird,” he asked, missing his usual nonchalance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s different,” Shouyou offered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo sighed, slumping his face to the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s got you…” Shouyou tried to understand why he was going out of his way to look- “Wait, are you going on a date, Kuroo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slapped the table with his left hand and lifted his face. “Maybe,” he grimaced. </span>
</p>
<p><span>Shouyou’s mouth fell open; he didn’t have any words to explain how weird this felt. In Shouyou’s mind, he had always grouped Kuroo and Kenma together as one entity. There had never been any indication that their relationship was anything beyond friendship, but in the years that he had known the pair, they had never seemed to have eyes for anyone else. </span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“How can you ‘maybe’ go on a date?” The embarrassed question squeaked out of Shouyou’s mouth.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, it is a date. Is that better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wanted to say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo found the clock on the wall and cursed softly. “I better get going. We’re gonna check out The Alchemist.” He stood up with a groan. He stepped out of the tatami room and into the hallway. Shouyou crawled toward the door and kept talking to Kuroo as he put on his shoes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The bar Konoha told Akaashi about?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s all the way in Kobe, though. I’ll probably be back on the last train,” Kuroo explained, taking one last look in the mirror by the front door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you going with?” Shouyou asked. He looked around for Kenma, but the light was on in the toilet room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An old high school buddy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well have a good night! Get us invited to their jam night, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the plan! Have a good night, Shouyou!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye,” Shouyou replied, and the front door opened and closed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few seconds later, Kenma finally emerged from the toilet room. They settled back down around the low table in their room. Kenma picked his controller back up and resumed queuing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lost round after round. Shouyou noticed he was growing more and more frustrated as the minutes ticked by. After about an hour of it, Shouyou finally spoke up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about it?” The words came out something close to a wince. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” Kenma grunted, pressing buttons with more force than Shouyou thought he possessed . Prying a conversation out of Kenma was not how Shouyou had envisioned spending his Tuesday night. He had never tried to do it before, but Kenma had also never been so obviously affected by something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried again, “do you want to talk about why you’re upset that Kuroo went… out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s on a date, Shouyou,” Kenma snapped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, do you wanna tell me why that makes you-” he searched for the right word “-upset?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma lost yet another round and powered down his console. He stood up and dismantled the connectors to the television, buying himself time to think. When he sat back down at the table, he looked ready to talk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know why it makes me mad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou was even more confused, “you don’t?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t,” Kenma said again. </span>
</p>
<p><span>Shouyou took a slow, deep breath. “Okay, is it because you don’t like who he’s out with? The high school friend?”</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“Yaku,” Kenma corrected. Shouyou was surprised that Kuroo was out on a date with the guy who introduced them to Fox Glove.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you not like Yaku?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma picked at the grain of the wooden table with his finger nail. “Yaku’s fine, I guess.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Shouyou tried to lay the puzzle out in his mind. “It’s got to do with Kuroo, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you, uh,” Shouyou felt awkward asking the question he had since he met the pair a few years ago under these circumstances. “Do you like Kuroo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma made a low, guttural sound in his throat. “I. Don’t. Know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou wanted to tear out his hair, but there had been plenty of times when Kenma had listened to Shouyou whine about every little thing that bugged him. He owed it to him to listen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Shouyou didn’t respond, Kenma sighed. “It wasn’t like this when Yaku was around in high school,” he explained. “It didn’t feel… like an intrusion?” He steepled his fingers across his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, okay. But it does now,” Shouyou prompted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma nodded. He looked uncomfortable, his fingers indenting the skin of his face. Shouyou wasn’t sure how much further to push the conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could offer to drop it, Kenma spoke. “It didn’t feel permanent. It’s been just Kuroo and me since forever. I never factored in something like romantic interest, maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou hummed in agreement. “Yeah, it feels out of left field to me, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma removed his hands from his face and slumped over on the floor. “But it’s not out of nowhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t get it,” Shouyou replied, melting onto the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If he’s going on a date with Yaku, that means they’ve been talking, and he didn’t tell me about it,” Kenma said into the tatami mats. Shouyou peeked between the table’s short legs to see that Kenma had flopped the hood of his sweater over his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou crawled around the table to throw his body down next to Kenma. They didn’t speak for a few moments, letting what Kenma had said linger in the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, you feel like he doesn’t trust you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma nodded, rubbing his face into the floor. “He’s been-” Kenma’s voice cracked “-I know he’s been getting more frustrated with me, like at Kitaichi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like he had scowled whenever Kenma’s shyness was brought up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It made Shouyou a little angry. “That’s not fair of him he should…” but he didn’t know what Kuroo should do instead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How would you feel if you spent your whole life cleaning up after someone.” Kenma’s frustration laced through every word. “I’ve been trying, recently, because I know he’s wondering when I’m finally going to grow up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou sat up in a hurry. He had the urge to hit something, but he just fisted his hands in his lap. “Stop thinking like that! You have your own life. It’s not like Kuroo or anyone is paying for your apartment!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what I mean, Shouyou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you mean. I think Kuroo’s just worried about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma reached his arm out from his body to pat around the table top for his phone. Shouyou slid it toward the seeking hand. Kenma dropped his arm back to his side, clutching his phone, but not moving to look at the screen yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It just hurts. It feels like he’s trying to-” Kenma didn’t finish the thought. “It’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou shook his head even though Kenma couldn’t see him. “It’s not fine, if it hurts you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Shouyou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you gonna talk to him about it?” He was more worried about the two of them than he felt comfortable saying. Feeling the tension between them felt worse than the way the air leaves the room when Bokuto and Akaashi fight. It was like watching a solar system fall apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally sitting up, Kenma took off his hood to reveal his red, sweaty face. He shook his head and said, “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling the end of it, Shouyou just agreed. His phone vibrated on the table, making his heart leap. Like lightning, he snatched it up and checked the message. He deflated when he saw it was just a good night text from his sister.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He answered it and put the phone back down on the table. Next to him, Kenma had calmed down some. His sharp eyes were watching Shouyou. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was that Kageyama?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou felt like squirming, “no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thought not,” Kenma told him, looking for any crack in Shouyou’s armor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it that noticeable?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sway like you're listening to the radio when you text him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ew,” Shouyou crossed his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the one being sappy,” Kenma pointed out. He blew out a breath, then asked in a serious voice, “are you okay? Didn’t he, like, obliterate your heart?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou dropped his head to the table in embarrassment. His forehead stung and the resulting smack seemed to echo in his ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Technically,” he said, his voice in the rafters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Technically?” Kenma parroted. “How does that even work?” The eye roll Shouyou couldn’t see was audible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t say it was his fault.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He stopped talking to you,” Kenma said. Shouyou heard him tapping on his phone. That made him feel better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s because-” it was hard to admit it out loud, but he had forced Kenma to talk earlier “-I kissed him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like recently?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou lifted his head and waved his arms at Kenma, “no, no, no, no, we’re just friends!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma stayed engrossed in his phone. “Oh, so you kissed him in high school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought he felt the same way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma sounded surprised, “he didn’t? Huh, I didn’t get that vibe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you guys went out on a date-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou interrupted that train of thought  faster than a drunkard pulling the emergency stop on a train platform. “We did not go on a date.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Kenma put his phone down and dedicate himself to the conversation. “Shouyou, you guys went on a date straight out of a ‘Date Ideas for Osaka’ magazine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t read those,” Shouyou countered, turning his face away from Kenma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, you get my point. I’m surprised he doesn’t like you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, he doesn’t. We’re friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And that’s what you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou stopped pretending to ignore Kenma. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about the whole thing. “It has to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Says who?” Kenma asked before standing up and walking to the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou thought about the question as he heard Kenma rummaging around. Cabinets opened and closed; tins knocked against each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma came back into their room holding take-out menus he found in one of the drawers. When he sat back down, Shouyou found his answer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I spent all of high school in love with him, and it nearly ruined everything. I want to see what it’s like to just be friends,” he confessed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he flipped through the menus, Kenma volleyed another question back. “And that’s what he wants, too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As long as you’re on the same page this time, I guess,” Kenma said thoughtfully. He shoved half of the stack of menus at Shouyou. “Now help me pick what we should get delivered.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bar top at Kitaichi was uncharacteristically sticky, perhaps an indictment against Kageyama’s split attention. Shouyou was in the middle of a story while they waited for Fox Glove to start their set. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-so Kuroo came back to the house super late, which was annoying ‘cause we heard him fall over the lip of the genkan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama finally started wiping down the sticky section of the bar in front of Shouyou. “Did he like the bar, at least,” he asked, throwing the rag into a sanitation bucket. Shouyou heard it slosh by Kageyama’s feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou bobbed his head a few times, excited to tell Kageyama about Kuroo’s findings. “He said it’s kind of small, but it’s a cool atmosphere, and the owner is super cool! He made Kuroo promise to come to the next jam night, so we’re all going on Sunday night! Akaashi already called Konoha. He said he’d come! For a little bit… he wakes up at like three in the morning to start baking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama leaned his hip against his side of the bar, facing the stage. Fox Glove’s roadies were doing a final soundcheck. He crossed his arms and turned his attention back to Shouyou.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mentioned he lived in Kobe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, crazy right? It’ll be like first year, again!” Despite how tired he felt from Of A Feather’s earlier set, Shouyou was buzzing with all the possibilities that summer still held. It was exhilarating to juggle the shows, songwriting, and hanging out with Kageyama. “You should come, too!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The corners of Kageyama’s mouth turned up as he nodded. “Yeah, I’ll come. It’ll be nice to see everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou threw his arms up in victory. “I think you’ll like the bar, Kuroo was telling me-” he stopped “-well, I guess you’ll see it Sunday.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A ear-splitting screech of feedback tore through the air. The club winced in tandem, like a strange hive mind. When it was over, Shouyou rubbed at his temple. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As inconspicuous as he could manage, Kageyama checked his phone for a moment. He made a surprised noise and slipped it back into his pocket. He opened his mouth to say something, but someone came up to the bar to order a drink. Shouyou took a sip of his soda to make it look like he had any business distracting Kageyama from his job. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he was finished, Kageyama paused, like one does when they think they’ve left the stove on at home. It looked ridiculously theatrical for someone as stoic as Kageyama. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s got your brain spinning in the mud?” Shouyou teased, before sipping slowly on his drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama blinked at Shouyou and remembered. “Isn’t your birthday on Sunday?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His sip of soda threatened to find a new pathway up his nose. After a coughing fit, Shouyou managed to say, “yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cool,” Kageyama said. His mouth pulled to one side as he chose his next words. “I’ll buy you a couple drinks, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a-” Shouyou caught himself “-a plan then! It’ll be a lot of fun. I promise not to order anything expensive!” He laughed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even if you do, I’ll forgive you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since it’s my birthday?” Shouyou’s face hurt from smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, since it’s your birthday.” Kageyama had the idea of a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth. Shouyou had a passing thought wondering what he could do to coax it out of the shadows. He let the thought float past him, too romantic to cling to. Thoughts like that were dangerous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tobio,” Oikawa’s sing-song voice emerged from behind Shouyou. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama tried and failed to not look horrified about catching Oikawa’s attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he asked, gripping the soda nozzle tightly in his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I have a water bottle, please? Talking to all these fangirls makes my throat tired,” Oikawa whined. Since they started their residency at Kitaichi, Oikawa had amassed a crowd of adoring fans that came to every show.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How come you get all the ladies? Akaashi is obviously prettier,” Shouyou joked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa put an offended hand to his chest, “you don’t think I’m the prettiest member of the band? I carry our reputation on this face, and this is the thanks I get?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou drummed his fingers on the clean bar. “I think if we put it to a vote, you’d be outnumbered four to one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama handed a ice-cold water bottle to Oikawa. “I thought there were six of you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou snapped his fingers at him. “Good catch, Akaashi can’t be bothered to vote on something dumb like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama nodded, but didn’t say anything that would further incite Oikawa’s ire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not enjoying this hypothetical,” Oikawa sniffed and walked away without thanking Kageyama for the water. They watched him walk away until he was swallowed up by the crowd. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like ruffling his feathers, huh,” Kageyama asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou shrugged, “someone has to do it. Since, Iwaizumi isn’t here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like it’d be worse if he was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really,” Shouyou didn’t understand what Kageyama meant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, in middle school he was more dramatic whenever Iwaizumi was around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Shouyou admitted, “that tracks. It’s still wild that you went to middle school with Oikawa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama looked like he had just bitten something sour. “It was only for a year. I don’t think I would have survived otherwise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou pictured teenage Kageyama versus teenage Oikawa. The image was not sweet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was he worse or better than now?” Shouyou couldn’t help but ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Worse. So much worse.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On Shouyou’s birthday, Of A Feather met Kageyama at Osaka-Umeda station to catch the train into Kobe. The sun was beginning it’s syrup-slow descent into dusk, signaling the end of the longest day of the year. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tail end of the weekend meant that they were able to grab seats in the plush interior of the maroon-colored train. It swayed as it made the forty minute journey to Kobe’s downtown. Bokuto had managed to throw Shouyou’s guitar up on the rack above him. Akaashi had his arms wrapped around a cajón they had borrowed from Osamu.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as they had entered the car, Kageyama had pulled Shouyou to sit down next to him. Shouyou figured it was to create a buffer between Oikawa and Kageyama, who tended to glare daggers at each other if left to themselves for too long. The stops were rougher than the subway, making Akaashi fall into Bokuto every couple of minutes, not that either of them minded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo and Kenma sat across from Shouyou. The two of them kept a watchful eye on Kuroo’s guitar at their feet. If Kenma was worried about seeing Kuroo and Yaku together, he didn’t show it. The front of his hair was braided back to make a half-up half-down style that would stay out of his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the train rolled into the final stop in downtown, Shouyou jumped out of his seat. The train gave one more violent shudder, causing him to trip over Oikawa’s feet. Kageyama caught Shouyou’s arm as quickly as a viper. He pulled Shouyou upright. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto was impressed. “Good catch, man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should have been an athlete with those reflexes,” Oikawa said, standing up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe, if the art thing doesn’t work for me,” Kageyama replied after he remembered to let go of Shouyou’s arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi laughed behind his hand. “Did Kageyama just make a joke?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama rubbed the back of his head, looking self-conscious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou waited for Bokuto to pass him his guitar from the rack, bouncing on the balls of his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Calm down or you’ll fall again,” Kenma warned before stepping out of the train behind Kuroo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m perfectly calm,” he muttered to no one in particular. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Shouyou,” Oikawa said. His arms were empty. He had elected to bring nothing but his wallet and his intent to drink himself into a stupor. “Tobio will catch you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They filed out of the train and tapped out of the station. Kuroo scanned over the crowd, looking for Yaku. Of A Feather huddled together, trying to take up as little space as possible. Which was difficult considering the two guitars and the cajón.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the abandoned arches of a familiar fast food chain, a sandy haired man beckoned them towards him. Yaku was shorter than Kenma, his eyes just as piercing. He grinned when Kuroo came closer. He wrapped his fingers around Kuroo’s hand for a moment and released it almost immediately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kenma,” Yaku said, turning his smile toward his former underclassman. “It’s been a while, you look good. Dig the hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma’s hand snaked up to one of the braids. “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we waiting on anyone else,” Yaku asked, looking around at the whole group.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” Kuroo said, “Konoha’s meeting us at the bar.” Yaku nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a whirlwind of introductions, Yaku led the pack of people down the awning covered main street that hugged the elevated tracks. Shouyou and Kageyama brought up the rear of the cluster. They crossed the main street to dive into tight, sharp side streets and alleys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stopped when they spotted an unassuming sign in front of a tiny pull door. With a flourish, Yaku yanked the door open. They filed into the small bar, one by one, nearly filling all the standing area available. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a dim bar, but the fairy lights strung across every inch of the ceiling colored the room in a warm glow. Two high tables were against the wall by the kitchen handoff. In the nook by the windows that faced the street, two plush couches looked inviting, ready to welcome anyone who was willing to be sucked in by the soft cushions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Any available wall space, at any height, was crammed with bursting bookshelves. The books were nearly destroyed paperbacks, pristine hardcovers, and the occasional leather bound tome.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou heard Kageyama release a relaxing breath as he took into the quiet atmosphere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re back!” Someone yelled from behind the bar. A man with unruly black hair and glasses came around to greet them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo turned on his leader's charm. “I said I’d bring everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy you’re here! It’s always nice to listen to music create itself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He introduced himself to the rest of the group as Takeda, the bar’s owner. “ I’ve got some chairs you can set up over here, and then you guys can just enjoy the night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door behind them opened. Bokuto screeched as he launched himself into Konoha’s arms. Perhaps sensing impending disaster, Konoha had already placed his heavy guitar case on the floor. He caught Bokuto in the air, but staggered under his weight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve put on some weight, dude,” Konoha complained, setting Bokuto back on his feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pure muscle man. Tough you can’t say the same thing,” he shot back, poking Konoha’s side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Smacking Bokuto’s hand away, Konoha said, “yeah right! Get your eyes checked.” He noticed Shouyou and Kageyama, his eyes lighting up. “My favorite duo! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said with his arms open as he approached them. Shouyou threw himself into Konoha’s arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We thought you were dead!” He told him, using his drummer arms to squeeze Konoha extra tight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll take more than that to kill me.” He let out a huff of hair when Shouyou released him. He turned his attention to Kageyama, reaching up to smack him on the shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is the first time I’ve seen you with a clean face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s been a while,” Kageyama deadpanned, but Shouyou could tell by the slope of his eyebrows that he was happy. </span>
</p>
<p><span>The other band members said hello. After, they worked together to set up their jam session. Kenma peeled off to settle into one of the couches. Side by side, Kageyama and Yaku sat on the open stools at the bar. One chair away, Oikawa looked prepared to talk Takeda’s ear off the whole evening if he was left to his own devices. </span><span><br/>
</span> <span>Shouyou felt like he was drowning in nostalgia. Here they were together: the band club and Kageyama reunited. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>To start, Hinata sat on the cajón, his guitar in Akaashi’s arms. With a snap of his case, Konoha pulled out his resonator guitar. He plucked out the first few notes of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sleepwalk. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do I know that one,” Kuroo asked as he tuned his guitar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi narrowed his eyes, “Shouyou plays it all the time.” He pointed at Konoha. “It’s your fault I have to hear that song everyday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou had to defend himself, “I don’t play it everyday…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The matching looks he received from everyone proved his claim to be false. “Alright, alright, noted,” he said, throwing up his hands in surrender. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While they were still warming up their instruments, Takeda came to them with a tray of drinks balances in his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kageyama paid for the first round of drinks since it’s someone's birthday,” he explained, setting the tray down on the table closest to the group. Bokuto descended upon the drinks, distributing them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Konoha shivered, “weird to think Kageyama is old enough to buy alcohol.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi pinched Bokuto’s side as he walked past. He turned his attention to Konoha saying, “it’s not like he’s that much younger than you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s still weird,” Konoha decided. He looked around the bar. “Who’s birthday is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto answered, lifting his drink up high. It threatened to spill with the movement. “Shouyou’s!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No kidding,” Konoha laughed. “Finally turning twenty?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou huffed, “twenty-four if it matters.” He wanted to pretend to be angry, but the magic that rewound the clock kept him from taking any real offense. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo lifted his own drink into the air, “Happy birthday, Shouyou!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A chorus of “happy birthday” followed, and everyone took a sip of their drink. They thanked Kageyama and finished tuning their instruments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou hit the cajón in a light, steady rhythm. For a moment, Kuroo marked it by tapping his foot in time. He caught the groove and played the main hook of a cover Akaashi adored. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/732Sqj2piYPhdMPENP4axz?si=qV5QB2xgSSibU4PXNqLN8g">
    <em>
      <span>I’d have it no other way, I’d have it no other way, and baby that’s why I stay.</span>
    </em>
  </a>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Konoha didn’t know the song, but he managed to add depth with long, hollow notes from his resonator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And I don’t want no easy love</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Akaashi’s voice was quiet, his singing an afterthought, a habit. They floated through the song, in no rush to reach the ending. Jam sessions were about the moment and the movement. It was a time for Shouyou to mess with the cadence or for Kuroo to switch out chords. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Konoha stopped messing with the offbeat, Kuroo brought them back to the beginning hook and let Shouyou tap them out of the song. He stopped playing and everyone nodded at each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While they were playing, a few more bar patrons had come in to avoid the sticky summer night. They filled out the high tables and the rest of the bar. Kageyama gave up his seat to one of the patrons and meandered over to the bookshelf across from Shouyou. He grazed the tips of his fingers along the spines of books too high for Shouyou to reach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama lingered there, his back to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna switch, Shouyou?” Akaashi asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sounds good!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They traded seats, and he felt the familiar weight of his acoustic guitar against his thighs. Waiting for Akaashi to settle, he fiddled with the tuning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi rolled up his sleeves. He turned his attention back to Shouyou. “Been working on anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Kuroo and I got something cooking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which one,” Kuroo asked, leaning over his guitar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed by the wider audience. “Lost Boys,” he answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo bopped his head, thinking about the melody they had created. “Yeah, that one’s gonna be good.” He struck up the tune. “Oikawa, you better be listening,” he addressed the air behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the bar, Oikawa waved a lazy arm that Kuroo couldn’t see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou took up his own part of the song, which would hopefully be replaced by Oikawa’s keys if they made it past the brainstorming phase.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started to sing, his voice wobbly compared to Akaashi’s rich, lilting one. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Like we dreamt as lost children, you have a kiss hidden in the corner of your lips</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” At this stage, it was little more than a chant, but Shouyou pressed on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo had been right about singing, he wasn’t used to this feeling. He closed his eyes when he sang the next line. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>How do we bring this simple secret to the surface, to taste something sweet</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Kuroo’s fingers creaked down the frets, prompting Shouyou to open his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama had selected a thick, illustrated book. He had it cracked open in one hand, using the other to flip through the pages. His body swayed to the music as he concentrated on picking apart lines and shading, colors and framing. His mouth was a tight line. It made Shouyou want to rub away the worry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cursed himself, and the makeshift chorus began, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>let it become something soft, quick, and honest. Let me find it, let me keep it, a gift to be buried with.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” There wasn’t much left of the song except to play it out. Akaashi tapped a simple rhythm on the cajón. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo gave them the signal to wrap it up. When they stopped, Konoha laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys are like a real band,” he said, his smile broad and blinding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Duh,” Bokuto intoned from his seat, “what did you expect?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou had to laugh along, letting his nerves fly out of his mouth, like moths out of the dark. “No, I think I get it. It’s… what’s the word,” he thought for a moment, “it’s dissonant!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Konoha pointed at Shouyou. “Yes! Doesn’t fit my image of you guys at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo decided to shamelessly plug Of A Feather, speaking loud enough to the patrons that were now numerous enough to make Kenma nervous over on the couch. “You should come see us play at Wonderland on Friday. We’re gonna be the house band for the evening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like a blast, I wanna see Mr. Conversation at the keys,” Konoha said, jutting his chin toward Oikawa who was flirting with the bartender next to Takeda. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo turned around to see him, and yelled, “hey, don’t lay it on too thick over there. I’ve got Iwaizumi on speed dial.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa turned around and lunged toward Kuroo. “I’m just being friendly!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get more friendly with the money in your wallet. You’re parting with it too easy,” Akaashi told him, lifting his eyebrows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou tried to not laugh. He didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. The funny waves of Kageyama’s mouth extinguished all of Shouyou’s willpower. Kageyama was holding a laugh, and that itself was hilarious to Shouyou.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doubled over, letting the happiness fizzle out of him. He heard Oikawa scoff and walk away, but he still couldn’t stop laughing. He raised his head to glance at Kageyama again, but his face was still locked in the silly expression that had set Shouyou off. It was a long minute before Shouyou could stop laughing. Embarrassed, he drained the rest of his drink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you drunk already, Shouyou,” Konoha teased. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” Akaashi said, wiping his hands on his slacks. “He just dies every time I destroy Oikawa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo hitched a thumb behind his shoulder. “Don’t feel sorry for the monster, his ego is already a problem.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa threw a cherry stem at the back of Kuroo’s head. By the bookshelf, Kageyama looked scared to move. He locked eyes with Shouyou, who smiled at him. Kageyama came closer to stand between Kuroo and Akaashi and asked Shouyou if he wanted another drink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou wanted to cheer, but the guitar in his lap kept him from being too enthusiastic. “Plum wine! Straight!” After a pause, he tacked on an elongated “please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi sighed. “Alright, let’s switch back then, you’ll be useless in twenty minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Which proved to be correct. At the behest of Kuroo and Akaashi, with some mean laughter from Oikawa, Shouyou curled up on one of the couches next to Kenma. Yaku had also relocated to the couches as well  and was forcing Kenma to make small talk about the video games they were each playing recently. Shouyou was happy to see that they seemed to be getting along okay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama came over with water and another plum wine in his hands. Shouyou sat up straight, hoping that if he looked sober enough, the plum wine would be for him instead of the icky water. He craved the way the drink seemed to occupy a point between dryness and stickiness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heya, Kageyama, this place is cool right?” He asked, trying to distract his friend as he swiped at the glass of plum wine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama, experienced with drunks, easily evaded him. “Yeah, I like it.” Shouyou tried again, but Kageyama put the glass of water in his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Drink this,” he promised, “and you can have the wine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou made a face, and Kageyama sucked on a tooth. “Or I could cut you off. I guess you’re a lightweight.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, water is fine. I’ll drink it, pinky promise.” Shouyou showed his sincerity by raising the pinky of his left hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With his now free hand, Kageyama looped his pinky around Shouyou’s. They bounced their joined hands twice and let go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama perched himself on the arm of the couch, his long and broad body barely supported by it. He watched him like a hawk, making sure he sipped the water slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he was finished, Shouyou showed off the empty glass like a newly unveiled product. “Ta-da!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ten minutes and you can have the plum wine,” Kageyama told him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pouted, “you told me after the water.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t expect you to drink it like a fish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou shook his head. “Dummyama, fish don’t drink water, they breathe it. That’s why they have gills.” He rolled his eyes. Everyone knew that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama looked ready to strangle him, only he didn’t because he didn’t have both hands available. “Ugh, well, you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span> alcohol, so excuse me for making sure you pace yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou rolled his eyes and turned around to look out the window behind him. He craned his neck in an attempt to see the sky, but the buildings surrounding them were too tall to see around. He was tempted to climb over the back of the couch and onto the elevated nook. He was so tempted, he found he was already starting to stand on the couch. From each side, Kageyama and Kenma grabbed his arms and forced him to sit back down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma didn’t stop his conversation with Yaku, but Kageyama asked Shouyou what he was trying to do. He remained sitting up in case Shouyou tried to climb over the couch again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to see if it’s raining.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama looked super annoyed. “Dumbass, the pavement’s dry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed so obvious now that Kageyama said it. “Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not going to rain,” Kageyama reassured him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hand not holding the empty cup, oh he was still holding that, came up to tap against his collarbone. He couldn’t remember which side was the scarred one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure,” he asked Kageyama, looking into his eyes. The blue was nearly black in the dim lighting. He wished he could ask Kageyama the name of that color blue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I put in a good word ‘cause it’s your birthday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Shouyou smile. “It is! I don’t have a cake though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama’s smushed, puzzled face narrowed his expression. “I didn’t think to get you a cake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou patted Kageyama’s shoulder. “That’s alright, I don’t need any wishes anyway.” Kageyama leaned into his touch. It felt nice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Cause…” Shouyou lost his train of thought when he saw the plum wine sweating in Kageyama’s hand. “Hey,” he changed the subject, “has it been 10 minutes yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama stared at Shouyou with a critical eye, but he handed the glass over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yay!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take it slow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Grumpyama, sir,” he said before his first sip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama ruffled his hair, not pulling or squeezing his head like a melon. It felt nice. “Weirdo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This weirdo’s your friend.” Shouyou closed his eyes and hummed. His cheeks felt warm, and the rhythm of the bar’s small noises made him feel safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama removed his hand. He missed it, but he had his plum wine, so he didn’t pout. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Half the glass and a few minutes later, Takeda wandered over to talk to them for a little bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I liked that song you sang.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lost Boys! I like it, too. I hope we can record it when we go back to Sendai.” Kageyama pried the glass out of his hand when Shouyou started to get too excited. He let him take it away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I talked to Kuroo a little bit the last time he was here,” Takeda said. “You’re around here all summer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded several times. “Yeah, we saved up! We’re hoping to get our name out there. It’d be nice to get signed… Like Fox Glove! They’re with a label now, which is exciting.” Shouyou could tell he was rambling, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Takeda nodded along with his babbling. “Then I hope you guys can come back some time for a real show.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou clapped his hands together, happy that someone as nice and cool as Takeda liked their band. “Yeah! Totally! Well, I guess that’s up to Kuroo though.” He thought about it for a moment. “Wait, Kenma’s our manager.” He turned to Kenma and tapped his shoulder. Kenma indulged him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Kenma, do we have room in our busy summer schedule to come back here and play?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma looked like he was pulling up their summer calendar in his mind’s eyes. It made Shouyou want to laugh, but it wasn’t nice to laugh at Kenma in public. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we’re pretty free after the Kyoto shows the first week of August,” he explained, addressing both Takeda and Shouyou. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He threw an arm around Kenma. “See you’re booking us a show, Kuroo will be so proud of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma bristled, which made him sad. “I think you need some fresh air,” Kenma said, sliding Shouyou’s arm away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Takeda leaned in like a conspirator, “there’s another bar up on the roof, well it’s still the Alchemist, so I guess it’s better to say the rest of the bar is upstairs,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea sounded nice, but Shouyou was wary. “What if it’s raining?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hinata,” Kageyama growled from his perch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah?” He didn’t know what was grinding his gears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The pavement outside wet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, silly, you told me it wasn’t raining!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As long as you know,” Kageyama sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He still didn’t feel satisfied. “But what if it’s raining on the roof?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama sucked in the biggest breath ever, but Takeda beat him to it, “It’s mostly covered, so you’ll be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Shouyou very happy. He jumped up from his seat on the couch. His movement nearly knocked Kageyama off the arm of the couch, but his excellent reflexes kept him from going down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go! I want to go upstairs!” He grabbed Kageyama’s hand and tried to pull him into a standing position. Kageyama was as heavy as a boulder, just as immovable. “Let’s go,” Shouyou whined one more time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama stood up and knocked back the rest of the plum wine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! That was mine!” He punched Kageyama’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll buy you another on the roof,” Kageyama promised, but Shouyou didn’t trust him. Oh, yeah, the roof! He tugged on the hand he was holding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was nice talking with you, Takeda,” Kageyama said with a small bow. Shouyou was growing more impatient.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Takeda nodded back and said something that he didn’t catch. He was too caught up in trying to get his mountain of a friend to move. Honestly, was he even taller than before? It didn’t seem fair to Shouyou that the tall get taller.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama finally let him drag him out of the tiny bar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you even know where you’re going?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama pointed at the open doorway that housed a set of stairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A laugh escaped Shouyou’s loose lips. “Up, up, and up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is how stairs work,” Kageyama commented as they began their ascent. They passed by a landing with a full bathroom and a room with several sets of twin beds. At the top of the stairs, the door to the roof was closed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did we make a wrong turn,” Shouyou asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama pushed the door open without hesitation and revealed twinkling lights and a breathtaking view of downtown Kobe. The night sky was clear above them, despite Shouyou’s incessant worrying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bar on the roof was larger, the shelves of liquor backlit by dazzling white lights. Tables held scattered patrons to Shouyou’s right. To his left, up some wooden steps, a canopied, large u-shaped lounge looked cozy and inviting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the highest point of the roof.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s sit up there!” Shouyou decided, tugging Kageyama along with him. He walked up the steps very carefully so Kageyama wouldn’t laugh at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou threw himself on the soft lounge and enjoyed it’s bounciness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama sat next to him, less relaxed, their hands still clasped. Remembering how normal people act, Shouyou let go. Kageyama kept his grip on his hand for another minute, but he eventually let go, too. He stood up and went to order their drinks at the bar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou watched him walk away, hating how his heart was trying to call Kageyama back to his side. The longing was silly, Kageyama was right there, barely 20 meters away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing all around the panorama of the city, Shouyou enjoyed the summer breeze lazily dancing through the rooftop bar. Without the oppressive heat of the sun, the warm night felt more like a hug than a vise. He leaned over the back of the lounge to watch the silhouettes of the mountains behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A cool glass pressed against his warm cheek.  He was too soothed by the calming night to jump too harshly at the change in temperature. He left the mountains to their eternal business and accepted the drink from Kageyama. It had ice in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to complain, but Kageyama said, “the ice will be good for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Says who?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Says me.” Kageyama sat down next to him, close enough that their shoulders were touching. Which shoulder should he be worried about? No, that wasn’t right. Shouyou didn’t have to worry about anything, not now that Kageyama was with him. “You’re done after that, so savor it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou took a sip and set it on the low table in front of them. They sat together in silence as his head swam with thoughts of the band downstairs without him. He thought about singing; he thought about Konoha’s beautiful resonator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard Kageyama ask him what it felt like to be twenty-four.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not much different than twenty-three,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess they all start to blend together after a while,” Kageyama said, but he sounded far away. Shouyou didn’t like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and leaned into the point where their shoulders met. “You sound like an old man. Dummyama, I’m older than you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt Kageyama’s chuckle more than he heard it. “Six months isn’t a long time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou managed to keep the “</span>
  <em>
    <span>but five years is” </span>
  </em>
  <span>safe behind his teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you falling asleep,” Kageyama’s soft, deep voice asked in the darkness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he lied. He forced his eyes open so he could pick up his drink from the table. The cold against his fingers brought some life back into him. He sipped it slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why bartending,” he asked Kageyama when he put the glass back on the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not bartending,” Kageyama shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Cause you’re a morning person.” Shouyou’s eyes slipped closed again. He would sit up in a minute. He couldn’t lean against Kageyama forever. He wasn’t sure if that was something friends did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama mumbled something that he couldn’t hear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude,” Shouyou said, lifting his arm into the air in a vague gesture. “You’ve gotta stop the mumbling thing. Does your art master man let you mumble at him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so drunk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re avoiding the question,” Shouyou sang. He felt himself slipping further into Kageyama’s side. He couldn’t be bothered to keep himself from falling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hands on his back and shoulder repositioned him so he was tucked into that warmth, surrounded by it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should go back to the house,” Kageyama said from somewhere above and beside Shouyou.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone’s here. Don’t wanna be alone,” Shouyou murmured. For all the fuss he made about Kageyama speaking up, he found that he couldn’t make the effort to speak clearly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t be alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded, burrowing into the warm lounge he thought he was leaning against. It must have sat out in the sun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Cause you won’t leave me alone, right?” he asked the colors coming through the open doors of his oncoming dreams.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reassured, Shouyou let himself sleep on the warm, breathing lounge on a rooftop in another new city. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Since we got to see both bands in action, I wanted to also show off the fan art <a href="https://twitter.com/sonianime">Sonianime did of the bands</a>!!! </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Never Gonna Settle Till You Get What You Want</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>His sleepy eyes narrowed at Shouyou. “Good, you’re alive,” he mumbled and collapsed back onto the bed.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading this week's chapter! </p><p>This week's title comes from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/6szw2Y2ywtth0oc7ODN3Tz?si=ITpaiIdKQBefzOAkr3uHhg"> Run by COIN</a>.</p><p>If you catch the reference to like one of my favorite manga of all time, please let me know because it is a masterpiece, and maybe a little bit of the inspiration for Kageyama being an artist hehehe.</p><p>Feel free to bug me on <a href="https://twitter.com/pinchserve12">my twitter</a> or <a href="https://pinchserveprince.tumblr.com">my Tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach stirred Shouyou from his sleep. He didn’t know how to describe it except as wrong. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and his neck had a pinched nerve, most likely from the extremely flat pillow under his head. Which was not his pillow. With that realization, the rest of his senses decided that waking up was a worthy endeavour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his eyes just enough to see that he was not in his futon at the house. The bed he had slept in was a thin twin bed with a scratchy blanket. His clothes from the night before clung to his clammy skin. It was all very unpleasant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Shouyou sat up from the bed. His stomach lurched with his movement, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to throw up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room he was in had several similar beds made up. The bed to his immediate right was the only other one that was occupied. A mess of black hair peeked out from the blanket. The person in the bed barely fit, curled up into a tight ball. Shouyou leaned toward the other bed, not exactly believing what he was seeing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s breaths were loud enough to be counted as snores. His shoes were lined up at the foot of the bed. This prompted Shouyou to scan the surrounding floor for his own shoes. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he found them on the floor to his left. He stuck his socked feet into them, and left the room in search of the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened to a familiar landing, and the bathroom was to his immediate right. The shower inside was tempting, but Shouyou didn’t have fresh clothes to change into even if he did indulge in a rinse. He still didn’t know where he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grateful that he wasn’t queasy, Shouyou finished up and went back to the sleeping room. He patted his pockets, hoping he would magically find his phone inside. When that failed, he crouched to the floor to check under his bed. His phone was face down under it, and he braced himself for a cracked screen when he stretched to pick it up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luck seemed to still be on side. The phone screen was whole, if a bit dusty. Still sitting on the floor, he unlocked the phone. It was just after eight in the morning, and he had 3 missed calls from Kuroo and texts from Kenma, his sister, and Oikawa. He read Oikawa’s text message first. It was a mess of emojis Shouyou didn’t have the brain power to interpret. The text from his sister was her usual goodnight text; he felt bad about not answering it last night. The text from Kenma told him to be careful and to be sure to thank Kageyama when he woke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puzzled, Shouyou tried to remember the night before. They had jammed together; Shouyou had drunk a little more than usual. He remembered talking with Takeda at the couches. From there, the memories went fuzzy around the edges. He remembered climbing up the stairs, the ones right outside the sleeping room. At least that answered the question of where he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why had they gone up the stairs? Shouyou thought about it for a moment. He tapped his phone against his forehead, begging his memories to come back and absolve him of any worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered the bright, backlit bar on the roof and the taste of plum wine. Kageyama and Shouyou had sat together on the lounge with a summer breeze caressing his cheek. He must have fallen asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little embarrassed, Shouyou stood up from the floor and stretched the blanket over the bed to make it look neater. He brushed the pillow of its wrinkles, taking more time than he usually would. He tried to decide if he should wake up Kageyama or let him continue sleeping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he sat back down on the bed, Kageyama’s phone began to chime from under his pillow. He dug his face into the pillow with a groan and silenced the alarm. After heaving a spectacular sigh, he lifted his head up and looked around the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His sleepy eyes narrowed at Shouyou. “Good, you’re alive,” he mumbled and collapsed back onto the bed. He turned his face toward Shouyou and asked him if he had to be anywhere today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shook his head. “We’re off today. What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and yawned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to be at the studio at noon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou checked the time on his phone again just so he had something to do. “We should get going soon, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama nodded and uncurled himself. His feet comically hung off the edge of the bed. He threw back the blanket and stood up, his clothes just as rumpled as Shouyou’s. He winced under his breath and placed a hand against his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Old man,” Shouyou teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” Kageyama slipped his feet into his shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staggering like a zombie, he left the sleeping room and went into the bathroom. Shouyou heard the sink run for a couple of minutes before Kageyama switched it off and returned to the sleeping room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, they climbed down the stairs to the street level. The door to The Alchemist was propped open as Takeda swept in the doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He greeted them, “were the beds alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama nodded. “Yeah, it’s a nice set up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takeda smiled, “the bands we have on Friday nights usually stay over since most of them are from out of town.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou leaned back on his heels, hands in his pocket. “That’s super cool! I don’t know how I would have got back to Osaka. Bit embarrassing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad you didn’t have to worry about that,” Takeda said. He addressed Kageyama, “how’s your back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama scowled, his embarrassment evident. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou was confused. “What happened to your back,” he asked. He swiveled his head back and forth between Takeda and Kageyama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Takeda laughed and leaned his broom against the doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He tried to carry you down to the sleeping room by himself,” he explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou wanted to crawl into the sewers or leave Japan all together. The embarrassment leaked into his voice, “I was that drunk?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama leaned his body away from the conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The band wanted to wake you up, but Kageyama insisted.” Takeda pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and picked the broom back up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s nervous laugh reflex came back to him after a moment. He punched Kageyama’s arm. “You’ve gone soft, Kageyama.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of answering, Kageyama bid Takeda another thank you and a goodbye. He stomped his way down the street. Shouyou waved at Takeda and jogged to catch up to Kageyama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou wished he could have seen Kageyama trying to pick him up off the lounge on the roof. It was probably a crazy sight. Mainly, Shouyou was thankful Kageyama had managed to not drop him down the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they made their way back to the station, Kageyama asked Shouyou if he was hungry. Shouyou considered his current condition. Usually, this was when his stomach would speak of its own accord, but today it was silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, I could wait. We gotta make sure you get to your studio on time, first,” he decided, “you probably want time to shower.” Kageyama agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple of minutes later, they tapped into the station and waited for the next rapid back to Osaka. The heat of the morning continued to climb. Kageyama leaned against an ad that boasted the beauty of a nearby beach. Shouyou studied the pixelated sand and sea. He craved the coolness of the ocean pulling him in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama noticed his attention shift. He turned around to glance at the ad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a nice beach. I’ve been there a few times, and you can see the Akashi bridge from it,” Kageyama told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked up at the ceiling and said, “man, I haven’t been to the beach since second year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really,” Kageyama asked, skeptical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama pushed off from the pillar and stood next to Shouyou, analyzing the ad for himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should go, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s smile came unbidden to his face. “Yeah?” He leaned into Kageyama’s space on his tiptoes, feeling like his excitement could make him reach the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama put a hand on Shouyou’s shoulder, making him touch back down on solid ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, we’ll plan a day,” Kageyama promised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Monday morning’s stragglers packed into the train, crowding in tighter and tighter as they approached Osaka. Every seat was taken; every hand hold and bar was gripped with a white knuckled hold. Shouyou fought to keep his knees bent to avoid falling over at every stop. He couldn’t keep himself from swaying. If he had to fall into someone, he was glad it was Kageyama instead of a stranger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the line ended at Osaka-Umeda, the same station they had started at the night before, all of the passengers flowed out like water from a burst dam. Shouyou had no choice but to follow the tide. He managed to tap out of the station, but he had lost sight of Kageyama. How he kept losing someone so tall, Shouyou didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked for signs for the subway, but about 10 different train lines came through the station, each sign more confusing the next. He chose a direction to head in, but someone grabbed his arm from behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou was relieved, “there you are! I thought you ditched me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama rolled his eyes and kept his grip. “That’s the wrong way, you dumbass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou grinned, hiding his embarrassment. “Whoops!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama guided them through the maze of the station. The shops they passed looked expensive but inviting. Shouyou wished they had time to wander around and get truly lost, but Kageyama couldn’t keep Ukai waiting alone at the studio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They descended the escalators to the subway line. Kageyama tugged him to the right side of stair, allowing people to pass on them on the left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou turned around to stick his tongue out at Kageyama like a little kid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Osaka’s weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s nose wrinkled in disgust, making him look like a teenager again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the weird one,” was his pathetic comeback. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rode the subway together until Kageyama had to change lines. As Kageyama got ready to disembark, Shouyou said, “See you-” he tried to think of when they would be back at Kitaichi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama saw him struggling, so he said, “I’ll call you.” He slowly lifted his hand, paused, and waved goodbye as he left. The doors closed, and Shouyou watched him until the train continued down the dark tunnel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou managed to drag himself into the shower after he arrived back at the house. When he emerged, free from his dirty clothes and the sticky sweat of the night before, Kenma and Akaashi were sitting in the tatami room as they ate a late breakfast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back,” Akaashi said when Shouyou slumped to the floor. “Overdid it a little last night, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou made an embarrassed squeak. “Sorry if I caused any trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t care. It was Kageyama you fell asleep on,” Kenma told him. He had an amused grin as he picked out bones from his fish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou sat up in a hurry. “You’re kidding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not Kenma’s usual kind of humor.” Akaashi twisted to look at Shouyou. He had a bowl of rice cupped in one of his hands. “You did fall asleep on Kageyama, though. Did you apologize?” He turned back to his breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I didn’t know!” Shouyou put his hands in hair. “Apparently he carried me down the stairs, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t seem to mind,” Kenma said. “What a great </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right Shouyou?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi made a noise of interest around a bite of rice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou stuck to his guns, “yeah, he’s a good friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you two made up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too,” Shouyou mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma slid his phone across the smooth tatami mats, and it came to rest against Shouyou’s thigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I took some photos. Since you guys looked like such good friends,” he explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was all very nostalgic,” Akaashi agreed. He claimed the last rolled omelet and popped it into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou groaned as he picked up and unlocked Kenma’s phone. The photo app was open on the screen. He clicked on the first photo from the night before. It was a dim photo from the rooftop bar. Kageyama had Shouyou tucked into his side as he stared away from the camera, toward the mountains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou swiped to the next photo, which was also dim because it was taken on the stairs on the way to the sleeping room. Kageyama’s face was red from the effort of carrying someone as dense as Shouyou in his arms. Shouyou’s head was thrown back. Behind Kageyama, Bokuto stuck out a hand to make sure Shouyou’s head didn’t slam into the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to walk into the ocean and never come back,” Shouyou decided. He hoped his voice sounded as grim as he felt. He slid the phone back to Kenma, but Akaashi intercepted it. He flipped through the pictures and chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky you didn’t get a concussion.” He handed the phone to Kenma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tucked the phone under his leg. “I’m just glad we didn’t have to try to put him on the train like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess Bokuto could have carried him.” Akaashi paused with his chopsticks in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma raised an eyebrow and waited to see if he would speak, but he didn’t. A happy little hum came out of Akaashi’s mouth as his brain came back online. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I want to know what you were thinking about,” Kenma asked as he cleared his place setting from the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>On Wednesday morning, Bokuto, Kuroo, and Oikawa went out to a batting cage, because according to Oikawa they were “beginning to act like dogs that had been kept inside the house for too long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma was nowhere to be found when they left, making Shouyou worry, but Kuroo had assured him that Kenma had planned to do some shopping by himself for the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or something,” he said as Oikawa pulled him out the door. Kuroo fought him to finish his thought. “His texts are always vague. You sure you don’t want to come to the cages with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou waved the offer away, “Akaashi and I are writing today. We’re gonna fix up ‘Lost Boys’ a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sick. Show me when we get back. Maybe we’ll be able to get a demo going.” They waved goodbye until the front door closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou and Akaashi sat down in the backyard, appreciating the shade cast by the thick tree behind them. Armed with a notebook and his phone, Akaashi jotted down notes as Shouyou went through the lyrics he remembered. He plucked the strings of his guitar, taking up the melody this time since Kuroo wasn’t present. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really like the “simple secret” line,” Akaashi told him, making a note for himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, it feels like a pre chorus kind of thing, yeah?” Shouyou asked. He hadn’t spent much time thinking about how the song would fit together as a completed puzzle. Sometimes, his lyrics read more like poetry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Always willing to help Shouyou carve out the essence of the song, Akaashi said, “I think what you have as the refrain right now could be turned into the chorus. It’s got the energy for it.” Often, he sounded clinical, but Shouyou had spent enough time with him to know that was just his way of speaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded a few times, rocking with the music. “Yeah, I like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi wrote another note and quietly listened to the repeating melody. As he played, Shouyou thought about how he had sung a little bit at the bar the night before. Often, he thought about the conversation he had with Kuroo the last time Shouyou was jamming in the backyard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like Kuroo had suggested, he knew he had to talk to Akaashi about his desire to sing. Still, it was hard for Shouyou to come up with the best way to say it. He didn’t have the gift for sliding it into conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you have fun Sunday night,” Akaashi asked. “We didn’t really celebrate your birthday that much.” He twirled his pen in his hand and had a frown on his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! It was great!” Shouyou wanted to make sure Akaashi knew it was true. “We don’t usually play like that anymore. It was nice to have Konoha with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frown left, exchanged for a barely there smile. “It really did feel like high school, didn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded. He didn’t know what to say next; he just knew he wanted to tell Akaashi what he had been thinking about. As he searched for the words, Akaashi spoke again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think,” his frown came back, a little twitch like he was already regretting what he was going to say, “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I’m glad you and Kageyama are friends again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou stiffened, stopping the music for a few beats before starting up again to keep himself calm. “Me, too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi tilted his head, asking for more information without opening his mouth. It made Shouyou keep going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, it was easier to ask for forgiveness now that I have so many more friends? All I could do before was cry about how he was gone, and then it was too late to reach out again.” Shouyou remembered texting Kageyama late one night a year after graduation, when he was vulnerable and still very sorry. The number had been disconnected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued, “but now, it would have been fine if he had shut me out again, because I have all of you. Does that even make sense?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi started twirling his pen again, “as long as it makes sense to you, Shouyou.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So is that a no?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi shrugged. “I haven’t been through what you’ve been through. Even if you explained it like the best poet in the world, I probably still wouldn’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou chuckled, transitioning his playing out of “Lost Boys” into “The Curator of Sweet Nothings.” Akaashi hummed the lyrics under his breath. He leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes, soaking in the summer air. It was turning into a blanket of humidity with every day that they came closer to July. At least the rain would make itself scarce once June was over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi,” Shouyou said. The nervous wings that beat under his skin picked up their pace. It thrummed like dragonflies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up,” he answered without opening his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou took a steadying breath. “What would you think if I said I want to sing something… for the band.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt the sting of regret. Yet, he wanted this more than anything; it took up so much of his headspace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi was a statue, something carved from marble. He considered Shouyou’s question, like he was taking it apart with a scalpel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d be confused.” He sat up straighter and opened his eyes. He folded his notebook closed and clicked his pen. “It’s not something I’ve ever thought about. Where’s this coming from?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Under Akaashi’s sharp eyes, Shouyou’s stomach fell faster than a bowling ball out a window. “I’ve been wondering what it would be like to sing something I wrote.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With the band? Like at a show?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded, the shame made it hard to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi pointed out a flaw that Shouyou hadn’t considered, “it’d be a bit weird. You’re the only person that really knows how to drum, but maybe we can figure something out when we go back home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guitar in Shouyou’s lap grew heavier and heavier as his mind tried to come up with a response. “I was thinking about the possibility of doing it while we’re here. Maybe, it could be just something I do…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wouldn’t be the band, then,” Akaashi didn’t sound pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou looked at the patchy grass instead of looking at him. “You’re right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi piled on another concern. “It’s uncomfortable. Singing on stage, I mean.” Always thorough, Akaashi added, “I think it’s very different from drumming. It’s a lot more pressure and attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could Shouyou explain how he felt like he was stuck where he had always been? He wanted proof of his growth. Doing the same thing he’s always done made him feel listless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still want to try it. I talked to Kuroo about it,” Shouyou said, his voice even despite the frustration eating him whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did Kuroo say about it?” Akaashi clicked his pen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He thought it was an okay idea.” It wasn’t the whole truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps sensing that, Akaashi asked, “Did he? What else did he say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou let out a sigh, “that I should talk to you about it.” He was still staring at the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi stood up from his chair and crouched in front of him, cupping his face. He made Shouyou look at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying no; I’m saying maybe not yet. I don’t want you to push yourself and end up feeling hurt,” he said, obviously making the effort to sound kind. Shouyou had never worried about Akaashi’s tone before. He had always trusted that he meant well. He wanted to have that same faith now, but the rejection pressed down on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded, Akaashi let go of his face. He picked up his chair to lean it against the house. He went back inside, leaving Shouyou stunned in his seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding back the violent emotions threatening to spill out, Shouyou put his guitar back into its hardshell case. He took the time to snap the fasteners closed. When he was done, he leaned over and put his head in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sea of his mind was choppy and stormy. Each wave hit him with a different emotion he didn’t have the heart or patience to sit with. Of course Akaashi would view Shouyou’s request as selfishness. Of course he wasn’t talented enough to do what Akaashi did every night. Those were the facts as he knew them, but he couldn’t help that the hurt, anger, and frustration worked in his veins. It was painful to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>          There was the distant hope of </span>
  <em>
    <span>someday</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but that hope didn’t comfort him in the moment. All he could feel was that distance. He stood at the foot of a mountain he couldn’t figure out how to climb. The handholds were all too far to reach today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou didn’t know what to do next. He didn’t want to go back into the quiet house. Akaashi’s reaction could have been worse, but he also didn’t want to feel the tension that was likely to fill the both of them for at least the next few days. As the day got hotter, he didn’t want to sit out in the backyard either. It would make him feel like he was giving up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still bent over, Shouyou pulled out his phone. Based on the time, the rest of the band wouldn’t be back for a few more hours, and who knows where Kenma had disappeared to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a text message from Kageyama. It was a picture of the Akashi bridge with the caption, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I heard it’s the longest suspension bridge in the world? What does a bridge have to do with suspense?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s bad mood settled into softer swells. Kageyama was so stupid, it was probably the most hilarious thing in the world. How does someone make it to twenty-three and still say stuff like that? He reread the message and the past few conversations they had sent each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than anything, Shouyou wanted to see Kageyama. It had only been two days since they parted on the subway, but to Shouyou it felt like a million years. He remembered how sad he had felt when Kageyama had left him on the rooftop bar for just a couple of minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tapped his forehead with one of his fists, berating himself for getting so caught up in Kageyama so fast. It was so simple and easy to navigate if he didn’t try to think too hard about it. As long as he sailed along the surface of their friendship, he could bask in the jabs and the jokes. He refused to take the time to mark the depth of the water and hoped he could avoid crashing on the shore. Shouyou knew his own feelings hadn’t changed, but he was determined to hold onto Kageyama this time. That meant being a good friend, not a pining mess who couldn’t see reality. He knew all of this, but still, he wanted to see Kageyama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could overthink it even more, he pressed the call button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It rang three times. Each time, Shouyou thought about how it was his opportunity to end the call and pretend it was an accident. He was scared of what he would say in this state. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s voice cleared away those fears when he picked up, “hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kageyama!” Shouyou shuddered from the instant relief he felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what’s up,” he asked. Shouyou heard him shift the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just wondering what you’re up to. Figured talking to you is more fun than staring at the house’s paint peeling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to think I’m a step up from peeling paint.” Kageyama sounded self-conscious, so Shouyou quickly told him he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” he replied. It was quiet for a moment. Shouyou didn’t know what to talk about with his mind still filled to the brim with his crashing dreams. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama came through the turmoil when he asked, “do you want to come over? To the studio.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shifted the phone to his other hand and wiped his sweaty hand on his jeans. “Yeah,” he replied, sounding more like a question. “Is that okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Ukai doesn’t care as long as you don’t like…” Kageyama paused to think of what Shouyou could do to get kicked out of the creative space. “I think as long as you’re not overdosing on caffeine, you’ll be okay.” He chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s heart was tied to a balloon, rising higher and higher with every moment. He giggled into the phone, “I’m a delight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess you’ll have to prove it to Ukai,” Kageyama told him. “If you’re coming over?” The hope in Kageyama’s voice made Shouyou feel like he was on a hook, being pulled toward him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I want to see you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shouyou only got a little lost trying to find the studio’s building. He had to take a new subway line, and he would not be telling Kageyama that he had got on the train in the wrong direction. That would leave him open to too many jabs about his lack of direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The studio was in a small three story building on the top floor. He climbed the stairs and knocked on the large, industrial double doors. They were thick enough that Shouyou couldn’t hear any movement beyond them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama opened the door and stuck his head out, his brow furrowed. When he saw that it was Shouyou, all the tension melted off of his face. It made Shouyou want to reach out and re-sculpt the usually present pinch in between his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Took you long enough,” Kageyama said as he opened the door wider for Shouyou to enter the studio. “I bet you got on the wrong train.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mortified, Shouyou asked, “how did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t. Thanks for confirming it.” Kageyama sounded pleased, and Shouyou felt too seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned away from Kageyama to take in the studio. The walls were almost all windows. They pulled in the early afternoon sunlight right out of the sky. Several workstations spread out throughout the room. One of the work stations had a potter’s wheel and stand that held clay spattered aprons. Another station furthest from the door had something like a massive piece of paper propped up on several easels. As Shouyou walked through the loft, he began to see it in more detail. It was Osaka in a wide panorama. There was Umeda; here was the aquarium. One section had an industrial plant light up with hundreds of lights, reminding him of a Christmas tree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama stopped at his own workstation, complete with a low bookshelf crammed full, probably with every sketchbook he ever owned. However, Shouyou kept walking toward the monochrome spectacle of the city. Closer, he noticed it was all drawn in pen. Bigger objects, like the Umeda Sky Building, were completed in high quality detail at the top of the paper. The smaller parts of the piece were still in the process of being completed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you Tobio’s friend,” a rough, but friendly voice asked him. Shouyou jumped away from the massive art piece and looked for the speaker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a tall stool to Shouyou’s left, an old man sat taking apart a fountain pen. His hair was grey and cropped close to his head. Shouyou could see his wit and wisdom in the way he evaluated him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From his own station, Kageyama called out, “that’s Hinata. Hinata, that’s Ukai.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ukai smiled, then, shaking his head, “Tobio’s a real master of the introduction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Shouyou bowed in greeting and apologized for intruding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. I’m glad Tobio’s finally gonna try drawing people, again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confused, Shouyou twisted. He looked at Kageyama and back at Ukai. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t… huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ukai tilted his head and said, “Tobio’s been sketching more often, so I assumed he was going to draw you.” He raised his voice to make sure Kageyama heard him,”Isn’t this the one you draw all the time? You should have had him come over sooner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama sucked on a tooth and didn’t respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s hand shot up to tap his collarbone, but he threw it back down to his side. He needed a new nervous habit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All the time,” Shouyou asked, mostly to himself. “All the time” like since they met a few weeks ago? “All the time” like since Kageyama began learning from Ukai? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou decided to try to change the subject. “Is the Osaka piece yours, Mr. Ukai?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ukai put the pen down, now reassembled, and stood up from his stool with a groan. He stretched and came to stand next to Shouyou.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, been working on it for a couple of years now.” He narrowed his eyes at the ferris wheel beside the aquarium. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s jaw dropped. He analyzed the drawing with more awe than before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Years?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a fun exercise,” Ukai explained. “Gets me out of the building for a few hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He showed Shouyou the strings and handmade pulley’s that help him keep his lines straight on such a large piece. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you do landscapes like Kageyama?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ukai thought for a moment, taking his time. “I also do a bit of pottery, but that’s more a hobby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou turned around to point at the wheel by the door. “Oh, is that yours, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ukai looked where he was pointing and shook his head. “An old friend’s daughter just moved here from Russia. She’s not really one of my students, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s so cool! Russia…” Shouyou drummed his fingers against his jeans.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Art makes the world smaller.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded. “Amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama interrupted, “stop taking up Ukai’s times, Hinata.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou took a gamble on Ukai’s sense of humor. “He’s just grumpy because you’re a much nicer person to talk to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was rewarded with Ukai’s hearty laugh. Waved away, Shouyou jaunted over to Kageyama’s work space. The short, but long bookcase acted as a faux wall that separated the space from the rest of the studio. Behind the bookcase was a currently empty easel and a set of metal utility drawers like Shouyou normally saw in hair salons and tattoo parlors. Kageyama was bent over it, digging around in the lowest drawer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the opposite end of the area, Kageyama had an angled drawing table with a sketch of Pagoda surrounded by a multitude of stone animal statues. It was cuter than anything Shouyou had seen Kageyama work on before, but it had been a long time since he had seen anything done by Kageyama. Beside Kageyama’s chair was a stool not unlike the ones he would sit on in the art club room in high school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou sat down and waited for Kageyama to finish with the drawers. When Kageyama turned around and saw him, he dropped the bottle of red ink in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cursed to himself as he swiped the air for the bottle. His fingers wrapped around it, and they both sighed in stark relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kageyama, Kageyama, did you forget I was here,” Shouyou laughed. He spun around on the stool to look at the Pagoda sketch again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s that,” he asked, pointing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama perched himself in his chair, uncapping the red ink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s from a temple in Kobe,” he replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh, those little guys are cute!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama hummed like he was weighing the concept of cuteness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of them move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, in a creepy, middle of the night way?” The silly questions made his tired, overworked brain go quiet. After the disagreement with Akaashi, he needed this autopilot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked at Shouyou like he was the stupidest human being he had the unfortunate fate of knowing. “No, like, mechanical, dumbass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou made a long “oh” noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama turned back to his table and poured some of the ink out of the bottle into a smaller inkwell. He dipped a pen’s nib into it. After, he dragged it across the lip of the well to knock off the excess ink. He began to outline the pagoda with graceful precision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou drank in every movement. It was a sight he had missed, more so than sitting as Kageyama’s subject. He could feel how much Kageyama loved the process. Never one to rush, Kageyama had let high school Shouyou watch every landscape journey from rough sketches to stunning, completed paintings. The only piece he had ever been secretive about was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wish</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it was also the only gift Kageyama had ever given him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He caught Kageyama watching him out of the corner of his eyes every couple of moments. Shouyou wondered what had Kageyama worried. In the past, he would have left Kageyama alone in his thoughts, too concerned about upsetting him. Shouyou wasn’t sixteen anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kageyama stretched and went to dip the pen again, Shouyou asked, “what’s up, Kageyama?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused for a moment, his shoulders slightly bunching. He dipped his pen and returned it to the paper. Without looking up he said, “you sounded weird on the phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou blanched, embarrassed. “Did I? It’s alright, though.” He didn’t count it as lying; he considered it the best way to keep from dumping all of his problems on Kageyama, unsure if their friendship would allow that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Kageyama missed the nuance. “Something happen?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing from the stool, Shouyou stepped up to the bookshelf and crouched in front of it. He traced the spines and spirals of the notebooks tightly tucked in together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considered how to answer. He had been the one to start the conversation, thinking it would revolve around Kageyama. Now that it was turned to him like a mirror, Shouyou found he didn’t want to look at what the reflection would show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes and hands still exploring the sketchbooks, he decided to tell the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chose his next words carefully, “I had a… disagreement with Akaashi.” He tried to pull a sketchbook out from the shelf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” The surprise in Kageyama’s voice was audible. “About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou fingers painfully caught between the books, the pressure shocking him. He hissed through his teeth. Despite being afraid to voice his ambition for the second time that day, Shouyou answered, “I told him that I want to sing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Kageyama put down the pen behind him. With his fingers still stuck in the shelf, Shouyou turned his face toward Kageyama and quickly added, “like for one song. Akaashi’s our singer after all!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If anyone could manage a look between amusement and concern, Kageyama had apparently mastered it. He walked over. After he crouched down into Shouyou’s space, he reached his big hands into the shelf and pushed against the books that had caught his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could have done that,” Shouyou told him, sulking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he said, like he had said when Oikawa had told him about Shouyou hating June. How much could Kageyama really know about him, after all this time?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the book and Shouyou’s fingers free, Kageyama went back to his desk. He cleaned his pen, and Shouyou sat back down on the stool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did he say no?” Kageyama tilted his head to look at Shouyou, who just nodded as a response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, Kageyama knew him better than Shouyou knew his own reflection, because he said, “But you’re still going to try right? ‘Cause it’s what you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded again, hating how his throat closed up. Kageyama bobbed his head and dropped the conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freed, Shouyou gently opened the sketchbook he had selected. He was careful of any loose pages that might fall out. The book had thick pages and Kageyama had used it for experimenting with watercolors. In high school, it was a medium he had rarely indulged in. He always said the colors were too diluted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the scenes were from Sendai. War monuments cropping up here and there. Sometimes, Kageyama had remembered to mark the date; the sketchbook was from the year Kageyama left his family’s home. Which was the same year Shouyou had tried to call him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flipping the page, he found a mostly white piece that reminds him too much of the torii gate painting from high school. The focal point of the snow covered scene was a brown, wooden shrine. The bell and rope were beautifully weaved lines of red, white, and yellow. On the stone steps, his back to the viewer, Shouyou’s orange hair popped out of his jacket. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was really nervous about writing a disagreement between Hinata and Akaashi... so if you think I did an okay job with it, please consider dropping a kudos or comment. Thanks again for reading!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. You Be the Tide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I don’t like feeling stuck.”</p><p>Even this close, their arms nearly brushing, the wire connected to Shouyou’s chest strained even harder. </p><p>“Yeah,” he said, “ me, too.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s,” Kageyama shifted again, “I thought so.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is the whole reason this fic exists, and I'm not ashamed to say it. The beach they go to is very close to my heart. I have many beautiful memories there and at the temple they go to. Fun fact! It's also (probably) the same beach from Lovely Complex, if you know that manga/anime! Hehehehe</p><p>This week's chapter title comes from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/4jUJrEiDpehD2wC0dw1Tqx?si=bTQYgbgIQqm1VX2LUfUkYw">The Tide by Pale Waves</a>. </p><p>Here's the link to <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4QKC0u7bWlC4ZMoeQy5VYL?si=CJ1UTczXRkCcgGPbGsdrTA">the kagehina playlist</a>.</p><p>The art in these chapters was done by <a href="https://kingstrawberrymilk.tumblr.com/post/640994316041519104/these-are-my-final-pieces-that-go-with">Tai</a>. Please show his post and art some love if you're on Tumblr!!!! Thank you so much, Tai!!<br/>After this chapter, it's going to be a test of my willpower vs my strange final semester of university, but I'm hoping to keep my weekly updates!<br/>please bug me at <a href="https://twitter.com/pinchserve12">my twitter</a> or <a href="https://pinchserveprince.tumblr.com">my Tumblr! </a><br/>Let me know in the comments if you liked this chapter :3</p><p>Edit for Content Warning: !!!Spoilers!!!<br/>Referenced Homophobia, a bit harsher than in ch 5</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“No way, Kageyama, if we’re going all the way to the far side of Kobe, I want to go see your paintings!” Shouyou stood on the other side of Osaka Station’s gate, refusing to tap in until Kageyama gave him what he wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poor Kageyama was trapped inside, having already tapped his way in. He scowled at Shouyou. They had spent the whole walk arguing about it, but Kageyama just wouldn’t budge. So, Shouyou decided he wouldn’t either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now they both stood in the way of everyone trying to get on with their commutes. Eventually, the river of people ignored them in favor of other turnstiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Embarrassed about the scene they were making, Kageyama raised his hands parallel to each other, aggressively pointing at Shouyou with both of them. “They are in different galleries,” he explained, “and I don’t want to waste time! It’s summer, dumbass, the beach gets crowded.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pretending to keep his cool, Shouyou played with the wallet that housed his train pass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hinata. We are going to miss the rapid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we go see </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> of your paintings,” Hinata asked, finally looking up from his wallet. “Does the rapid stop there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked just about ready to reach over to end Shouyou’s life and call it a day. Instead, his eyes lifted to the digital display above Shouyou’s head and cursed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he conceded. “Yes, the stupid rapid stops there, but when you can’t find a place to sit at the beach-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou tapped through to Kageyama’s side, grabbing his arm as he passed him. “Yay! Let’s hurry up Kageyama, you’re gonna make us miss the rapid!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rushed down the escalator to the tracks without stopping to worry about falling. As they stepped onto the platform, the rapid pulled in. Packed in tight, they joined the crowd waiting for the passengers to disembark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite rush hour being long gone, Kageyama and Hinata had to cram themselves into the car. They braced their arms against the top of the doorway to allow the automatic doors the space to close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re gonna fall right out when these doors open back up,” Shouyou lamented. He hated the pressure of the bodies behind him. He felt lost and breathless, and his chest seemed like it wanted to explode. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to him, Kageyama started to wiggle closer to juncture between the doors and the row of seats to his right. At the next stop, the doors opened on the other side. With some of the pressure alleviated, Kageyama backed up even further and pulled Shouyou into the pocket of space he had managed to make. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you don’t have to worry about falling out,” Kageyama told him when Shouyou started to stammer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, cool,” he managed to reply. “Good idea.” Shouyou really did appreciate being free. He angled himself so he could watch the scenery as they passed. They had left Osaka behind pretty quickly as they followed the river. Eventually, the tracks began to pass through residential areas. The doors on the other side opened again a few minutes later. The closer they got to Kobe, the more people crammed into the already full car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Kageyama pressed closer to him, Shouyou moved away from the pocket of space. He felt the dip where the wall of the car gave way to the automatic door. The next stop was announced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s us, if you still want to waste our time,” Kageyama told him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou rolled his eyes. “It’s not a waste of time you dummy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train slowed as it rolled into the station. It lurched once as it came to a stop. Shouyou got ready to swim across the car to reach the other door, but Kageyama grabbed his arm and pulled Shouyou closer to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confused, he began to ask, “Kageyama what are you-” but he stopped as he felt the door behind him slide open. If not for Kageyama bearing his weight, he would have rolled out of the train. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Safely off the train, Shouyou’s nose was immediately assaulted by the smell of warm, fresh bread. They tapped out of the station, and something scratched the back of his mind. He looked up at the station sign reading it carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up,” Kageyama asked when he noticed Shouyou had stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think this is where Konoha’s bakery is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to be very specific because I think there are like twenty in the same three or four blocks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou dug around in his beach bag for his cell phone. While he decided who to ask, he said, “No kidding?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama nodded, “yeah this area is well known for all the bakeries. Are you going to ask Akaashi about which one is Konoha’s?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou grimaced. It had been two weeks since their conversation. Overall, they were fine. He didn’t have it in him to stay mad at Akaashi, especially since what he had said made sense. Still, he felt awkward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking I’d get a faster reply from Bokuto,” he said as he typed out his message. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh, I guess things do change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Shouyou was done with his text, he made a grand gesture asking Kageyama to lead the way. They crossed the busy main street dotted with buildings of all sizes. They climbed up a short hill, and soon they were walking on cobblestone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The street they were walking along narrowed and turned like a snake. Shouyou counted the bakeries as he passed them. Every window displayed breads and desserts that made his mouth water. He stayed strong against their siren call. Eating from Konoha’s bakery was important to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama led them to a u-shaped building constructed around a beautiful courtyard. The hardy flowers growing there were bright and beautiful in the morning sunlight. They walked along it until Kageyama pulled open the door of the building. Shouyou felt the air-conditioning wafting out from the building, beckoning him to come inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gallery itself was small, with off-white walls holding all mediums of art. Shouyou remembered how to tell the difference between types of paints based on the way they set and the vibrancy of their colors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama let him look around and appreciate the works of the other artists on display. Shouyou bent forward as close as he dared to read all of the artist bio’s and descriptions of the pieces. They were all lovely, some abstract, some hyper-realistic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped in front of an oil painting of night scene with a massive bridge, connecting the viewer to an island in the distance. The lights on the top of the bridge dotted along its curves, every color of the rainbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou read the bio, shocked that it was Kageyama’s piece. The small placard told him that the name of the painting was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Once More to Your Door</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Kageyama wandered over, looking shy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Playfully, he smacked Kageyama’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “So you painted the bridge, but you still don’t get what a suspension bridge is?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I need to know that?” Kageyama crossed his arms and put more space between the two of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou just rolled his eyes. “You’re right, your brain doesn’t have room for anything else. Not when you make art like this.” Shouyou tried to sound light-hearted, but he wondered if Kageyama caught the reverence in his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To take up time, Shouyou leaned forward again to read the title. It was excessively romantic, and he wondered if that was one purpose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up with its name?” He asked, directing the question toward the painting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s mouth became a jumbled line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou pulled away from the painting and stood next to Kageyama. Quietly, he asked, “does your boyfriend live on Awajima or something?” He dug his elbow into Kageyama’s side like Oikawa always did to Shouyou when teasing him about love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked shocked beyond words, his eyes bugging out slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so an ex-boyfriend,” Shouyou tried again, keeping his words light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still at a loss for words, Kageyama’s mouth flopped open and closed several times before he gave up and stomped toward the exit. Shouyou watched him make his retreat. He glanced back at the painting one more time. It was truly a marvel of perspective. He wondered where Kageyama had stood to get that kind of view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After his pause, Shouyou walked back outside. As soon as he was through the door, he regretted leaving the air-conditioned gallery. July felt like it was suspended outside of time. The humid heat made everything move in slow-motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama was sitting on a bench outside of the courtyard, facing the gallery. Shouyou gave him a tentative wave, afraid that he had actually upset Kageyama. In return, Kageyama stood up from the bench and asked if Bokuto had answered Shouyou’s text. When he dug out his phone, he saw that his text was unread and unanswered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged and said, “I guess we can always come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Kageyama agreed as they walked back down to the station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou had a bounce in his step. “Cool, that means we can go see your other painting,” he teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou weighed the two words, dissecting them for their tone, their timing, anything to give a hint that Kageyama was upset about the boyfriend joke. He thought that after nearly a month and a half, they had moved the pieces of their friendship back into place. Wasn’t it normal to tease one’s friends about love? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they waited for the pedestrian light to change color on the main street, Shouyou played with the crossing button. It beeped with every push. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop that, already, dumbass,” Kageyama snapped after the umpteenth time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s next words tumbled out of his mouth, “I’m sorry for joking about your love life. I bet it’s awkward since- it was awkward right?” The light turned and Shouyou stepped off the curb ahead of Kageyama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his long legs, he quickly matched Shouyou’s pace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a little weird if you’re the one asking,” Kageyama mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou kept his head down low where Kageyama couldn’t see it. He didn’t want to see what kind of expression Kageyama was making, and he was certain Kageyama felt the same way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took the escalator up to the main level of the station, and bought some snacks from the bakery before making their way to the platform. They took the local train that ended at their destination. The car was empty and sleepy as the train breezed through downtown Kobe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat in companionable silence. Shouyou’s head was swimming, and he wondered if Kageyama’s was in the same state. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon, the city gave way to the seaside, and Shouyou had to hold himself back from pressing his face against the window like a toddler. Boats of all shapes and sizes sat waiting to set sail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The docks gave way to the beach, where wind-surfers glided along the top of the ocean.  In the sky, the sun continues to climb towards it’s zenith. It’s light danced off the gentle waves. It seemed to Shouyou that everything was alight, shining brighter than stars. Even the sand looked like it was sparkling from this distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train pulled into the final stop, announcing the beach. Without the noise of other passengers, the doors slammed open with an echo. Kageyama picked up Shouyou’s bag from the floor as they left the car. Shouyou tried to take it back, but he wouldn’t budge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to grab my bag, Kageyama!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama switched the bag to his other side, away from Shouyou. “I was scared you were gonna forget it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They tapped out of the station, “I’m not that dumb!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama glared at him as they stepped through the doors to the stair landing leading from the station to the beach, “you are and you’re forge-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou ignored him and ran up to the railing. This close to the ocean, the heat wasn’t so unbearable. “The beach! The ocean! Look, Kageyama, people are walking their dogs!” He pointed at the plump couple of corgis waddling their way down the walking path. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like Kageyama had warned, the beach was crowded. Umbrellas, tarps, towels, and blankets marked out the territories of the visitors. The water was filled with people playing in the shallows, while the more adventurous swimmers made their way to the breaker that kept the waves from getting too violent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou leaned forward and closed his eyes, feeling the railing dig into his stomach. The wind held its gentle fingers against his face. He wasn’t well acquainted with the smell of the ocean, but he found he had missed it. Memories of eating ice cream with Kageyama during their second year class trip filled his mind. He could almost taste the vanilla of the ice cream he had stolen right out of Kageyama’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama came to stand next to Shouyou and said, “Let’s go find a spot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou opened his eyes and beamed at him, “to battle!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t expected Kageyama to be fussy about where they put their tarp. First, the spot Shouyou wanted was too far from the water. Second, he was stupid for trying to set up somewhere the tide was destined to swallow up. He was getting ready to fight Kageyama, complaining that all the good spots were taken, when a young family started packing up their already tired toddler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky,” Shouyou breathed out as they circled the spot like crows waiting for crumbs at the park. He pulled their tarp out of his bag; Kageyama grabbed the other side to help him spread it out. They put on their sunscreen and waited the agonizing wait for it to set. The shore was finally right in front of Shouyou, but being hasty was only going to leave him sensitive and burned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took the chance to look around the beach. On the other side of the walking path behind them were a few shops and restaurants. He could see a donut shop on the other side of the train station, and he regretted the snacks they had bought earlier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bringing his attention back to the beach and Kageyama, Shouyou found that he had done a poor job of rubbing the sunscreen on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi,” he said. “Your ears are completely white.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked personally offended that he was being accused of doing anything half-assed, which made Shouyou point and laugh. With a self-conscious glare, Kageyama rubbed the excess sunscreen into his ears. He patted his fingers all across his face and neck. When he found a glob on his temple, he wiped it off his face and slicked it against Shouyou’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jolting as the sunscreen met his arm, he shouted, “gross Kageyama, that’s got your sweat on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama shrugged, his face free of streaks and his revenge exacted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple more minutes elapsed as Shouyou listened to the rhythm of the waves. Their crashes were like light taps against his symbols. He heard a train pull up to the station not far behind them with its low rumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kageyama shifted beside him, Shouyou asked, “are you gonna swim?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jumped up from the tarp and swayed side to side as he waited for Kageyama to join him. They walked down to the edge of the shore where the last remnants of each wave reached out to touch them.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span> Challenging Kageyama, he said, “wanna race to the breaker?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without answering, Kageyama stretched his arms. “Loser buys water.” Then, Kageyama took off like a shot, his long legs carrying him until he was forced to swim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In frustration and wonder, Shouyou yelled, “why are you such a cheater?” He didn’t hesitate to follow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sitting on top of the breaker, Shouyou taunted Kageyama, “and that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we stretch before vigorous activity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama pulled himself out of the water to sit next to Shouyou to watch the beach. “You didn’t stretch, either. Why am I the one who got a cramp?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, he replied, “I lead a much more active lifestyle than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scowling, Kageyama said, “just because you have ‘nice biceps’ doesn’t mean you’re better than me.” He could hear the quotation marks around the muscle comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou felt like punching him or launching himself into the deep. Either option seemed fine to him, embarrassed as he was that he had talked about his own arms enough for Kageyama to tease him about it now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He settled for kicking Kageyama’s calf and diving back into the ocean, slowly floating back to shore. With the waves as light as they were, Shouyou was able to close his eyes and feel the warmth of the sun. He enjoyed the feeling, but the longer he drifted, the more worried he became about bumping into other swimmers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Righting himself, he watched Kageyama on the breaker. He was leaning his palms against the stones, lifting his face to the sun. Like he had on the roof of the Alchemist, Shouyou loathed the distance between them. It felt like a wire pulled too taut, groaning inside of his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated how much he already loved Kageyama again. More than anything, he wanted to keep lifting this friendship up from the depths. It was salvageable, and he knew it. More than a repair job, this was supposed to be a new vessel, a place where they could be the best friends they were always meant to be. Once again, Shouyou’s feelings were threatening to make a mess of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swimming all the way back to the shore, Shouyou stood in the tide as it crawled up the beach. It stretched all the way up to the place he had originally wanted to set their stuff down. He supposed Kageyama could be right about some things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The repetitive motion of the waves had a hypnotic effect on him. Despite his jokes, he already felt beat up from the race. The exhaustion felt good. He felt himself gently swaying from left to right, like there was a song stuck in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sang under his breath, more humming than anything else. It was nonsense, no words. He simply enjoyed the feeling of the vibrations as they radiated from his vocal cords. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the breaker, Kageyama splashed back into the water and swam straight for shore, keeping his head above the water as he evaded the other swimmers. With a grace Shouyou was immediately envious of, he emerged from the ocean without even needing to battle the waves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he came closer, Shouyou noticed the storm cloud over his brow. His jaw looking tight, he stood next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your leg okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he replied, barely opening his mouth. Kageyama wasn’t one for extraneous movement, but this stillness seemed different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the water continued to rise, Shouyou felt himself sinking into the sand with every push and pull. It swallowed his feet, pulling him down. He couldn’t decide if the pressure from the sand was comforting or terrifying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sounding annoyed, Kageyama huffed and pulled his own feet out of the sand. He tried to move the wet sand back into place so he could keep standing in the same spot. Instead, it caved beneath him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou couldn’t help but ask, “what are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked up from his strange task and said, “I hate wet sand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hate’s a pretty strong word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like feeling stuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even this close, their arms nearly brushing, the wire connected to Shouyou’s chest strained even harder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said, “ me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s,” Kageyama shifted again, “I thought so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou faced him, sensing that he was trying to find a way into a conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of throwing him a life preserver, he prompted, “that’s an oddly specific thing to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s eyes were drawn to Kageyama’s opposite arm, where his hand was clenched in a fist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to find a way to slip into the conversation like a ship out of its berth, Kageyama said, “you take chances and try to move forward… It’s cool. Even in high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His nervous laughter instinct kicked in, “Dummyama, I was a mess in high school. You were the one moving forward.” He looked at the ocean, moving his feet as he found the sinking feeling to be terrifying afterall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s words must have had the consistency of peanut butter, the way they seemed to stick in his mouth. “I mean, at the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hinata’s heart started harder than the first kick of his drum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The end,” he asked, but he knew. He didn’t want either of them to have to say it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The kiss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s fingers dug into his palms. “Really, I’m sorry. Is this because of the boyfriend joke ‘cause I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to apologize again. For either of those things,” Kageyama managed, though his words were sharp as they left his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, why bring it up,” Shouyou asked, matching Kageyama’s sharpness. Even thinking about it felt like poison, ruining his beach trip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama moved his wet hair from where it clung to his forehead, buying himself a moment to think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Cause it was brave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help the pain that escaped when he yelled, “it wasn’t bravery!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of the fear of the future he had felt came rushing back to him. He hated how young he felt, having this conversation five years later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was selfishness,” he explained. “I was so caught up in what I wanted to see. I didn’t stop to think about what I was taking.” Thinking about the kiss he had forced on Kageyama made Shouyou’s skin crawl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was brave, because I was too scared,” Kageyama said, still sailing around what he really wanted to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou let himself look at Kageyama. Their eyes met and held, making him want to crawl back into the water just to avoid being under this microscope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Annoyed and tired, he asked Kageyama what he meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I liked you, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words burned Shouyou’s ears. They evaporated the ocean of guilt he had drowned in over and over. He pulled in a shaking breath and asked, “You did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama nodded, and Shouyou let out five years worth of exhales.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still confused, he asked, “then why did you say no?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama broke their intense eye contact, watching the waves as they rolled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overcorrecting, worried about stepping too far, Shouyou said in a rush, “you don’t have to tell me! It’s in the past, after all!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama moved in the sand. “I was scared of my parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gratified that Kageyama was giving him these secrets he had kept, Shouyou prodded, “you were scared that they’d see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head Kageyama said, “they knew about me, back then. That I was gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remembering the fear in his eyes after the kiss, a ball formed in Shouyou’s throat. “You were outed to them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s next words were light as an exhale, “my mom saw me kiss someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only heeding the call in his heart to do something, he wrapped a hand around Kageyama’s forearm. The touch seemed to steady the both of them. With this story, Kageyama was unfurling something he had kept tucked away. Shouyou wanted to aid it in blooming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened,” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Kageyama time, with neither excitement nor anger to goad him into speaking freely. Shouyou waited as Kageyama stripped the layers of the past, like delicately washing the grime off old paintings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been the day before a big exam in late December. Hoping to study together, he had invited his friend and crush, Kunimi, over to his house. Bent over their books, they had asked each other questions and found themselves pulled closer and closer to each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama didn’t remember what had changed; he only remembered that their free hands had found each other. It wasn’t long before their lips had met, hesitant and shaking. They had stayed close, their heads bent together. Kageyama couldn’t remember for how long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then that his mother had opened his door. Shocked by the scene, she had held herself together long enough to firmly ask Kunimi to leave. After he was gone, she had sat Kageyama down and told him his behavior was disgusting. Over and over, she had complained that he had been influenced by going to an all-boys school. She had him sit for the exam at a different high school instead of continuing on at the escalator school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Worst of all, she dragged him to the nearby temple nearly everyday to pray for his impurity to be removed. The pattern had continued well into high school, until Kageyama had been able to convince her he needed to dedicate more time to the art club.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unaccustomed to speaking for such a long stretch of time, Kageyama’s voice was paper thin when he said, “I liked you, from the beginning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the course of the conversation, Shouyou’s heart had split open and bled all across his chest. “The beginning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama sniffed and his voice sounded wet, “probably since you called the torii gate painting lonely. Everyone else said it was quiet or peaceful.” He sniffed again; the emotion he was holding back made him look like he was fifteen and watching his first high school painting go up in flames. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued, “but you saw it. You saw how alone I was.” He tilted his head back and gave it a couple shakes for good measure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not knowing what to say, Shouyou gave Kageyama’s arm one final squeeze and let go. With Kageyama’s story finished, he felt like he was coming back into his own body. He wrapped his arms around himself and found that his fingertips were ice cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked down at the ground and kicked some sand away as the tide receded. In a low, shy voice, he said, “sorry, that was a lot to unload at once…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling his own feet out of the sand, Shouyou reassured him. “No, Kageyama, that’s nothing to apologize for.” Kageyama kicked some more sand around.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really,” Shouyou insisted. He moved to stand in front of Kageyama, his back to the sea. He angled himself close enough to see Kageyama’s eyes as they hid under his bangs. “Thank you for telling me.” A ghost of a smile visited Kageyama’s lips, and it was gone in an instant. The ocean hit the back of Shouyou’s ankles, inviting him back into the sea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanting to release the melancholy mood, Shouyou asked, “Do you wanna swim some more or do you wanna eat our snacks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question brought Kageyama into the present. “I can’t stop thinking about the one pastry that said it has cream and apples in it, so I guess I’ll go buy the waters I promised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remembering his earlier victory, Shouyou bounced around Kageyama. “Do you know where the vending machines are? Do you think you could get some Pocari instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama looked ready to swat at him like a fly, but he agreed to get Shouyou the drink he preferred. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the rest of their time at the beach, they alternated between splashing around in the shallows and sitting at the edge of the shore. Kageyama laughed at him when Shouyou insisted they reapply their sunscreen several times. In return, he pointed out that Kageyama’s cheeks were definitely going to be red for a few days since his first application had been so shoddy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the sun nestled itself right above the Akashi Bridge in the west, they came back to their tarp to start packing up. Kageyama asked Shouyou if he wanted to see the pagoda he had drawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His interest was instantly piqued. “That’s the temple with the little mechanical animals, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama nodded and gestured for Shouyou to help him fold up the tarp. They walked toward each other to bring the ends together. After letting Kageyama have the last fold, Shouyou said, “yeah, let’s go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They left the beach, passing through the station. Before heading out, Kageyama suggested they get a locker for their beach stuff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou scoffed at him, “why? Are you taking me up a mountain or something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama fed the 100 yen coins into the locker and said, “well, yeah, actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In defeat, Shouyou blew out a sigh and crammed his bag into the locker. He held out his hand for the key, but Kageyama raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t trust you with the key, dumbass,” he smacked Shouyou’s hand away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, you’re talking to the station master when you lose it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than drag the bickering out, Kageyama headed for the stairs out of the station. On the street level, the donut shop called out to them with it’s delicious smells, but they peeled themselves away from the window and continued their trek to the temple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were across the main street, Kageyama led them through a tunnel between two store fronts. It was dark inside and still wet from the last storm that had passed through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shivered, “Kageyama are you plotting my murder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I just think this route is faster,” he answered as they reunited with daylight. They made a sharp right up a small, but steep slope. With all of the swimming they had done, Shouyou’s legs burned from the few steps he took. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was relieved when he reached a flat surface, but the relief was quickly washed away as he looked to his left at the intense hill they needed to climb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really are trying to kill me,” he whined. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama chuckled and started up the hill, “Like I said, this way is faster. Good thing you’ve got stamina, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Halfway up the death climb, Shouyou asked between gulps of air, “Is this revenge for laughing at you almost drowning because you got a leg cramp? Because I think this is cruel and unusual punishment. That’s illegal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you even talking about,” Kageyama called over his shoulder. “The walk fry your brain?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In spite of the ache in his legs and lungs, Shouyou found the strength to walk faster to overtake Kageyama. He stomped up the rest of the hill, his breathing annoying in his own ears. Never to be outdone, Kageyama picked up his own pace. They fell into step with each other, but Shouyou knew that Kageyama could walk even faster than this. He figured that Kageyama was walking next to him to drive home the fact that Shouyou sounds like he was dying, contrasting with the quiet breaths Kageyama was taking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they reached the top of the hill- for sure this time, Shouyou doubled checked- Kageyama guided them through a few more winding streets. Eventually, those streets gave way to a small gate and rows and rows of family graves. The sun was sliding slowly into the waiting embrace of the ocean, and a few elderly couples were about on their evening walks. Some stopped to grab the brooms and dustpans to clean up graves of loved ones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cemetery section gave way to a long, cobblestone path bordered on all sides by mysterious carvings of creatures. Shouyou looked at them curiously, wondering if these were the ones that moved. A statue of a giant tortoise caught his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama noticed and said, “you can turn the world on its back. It’s supposed to bring good luck.” He fished a 5 yen coin out of his pocket and placed it on the tortoise’s pedestal. He waited for Shouyou to spin the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It feels childish,” Shouyou admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou sighed and placed his hands on the globe, holding tight the Atlantic and the Pacific Oceans. It was easy to move it, probably designed for children to be able to turn it on their own. After one full rotation, Shouyou let go. Satisfied, they continued their walk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now, Shouyou could see the numerous tiers of the bright red pagoda in the middle distance. It was striking against the darkening mountain and the purple sky. He walked as if entranced by the trees that were shaking in the summer breeze. Breaking the siren call, Kageyama pulled on the short sleeve of Hinata’s shirt and led him into an alcove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll like these,” Kageyama promised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In front of them, three monkey statues sat before them in a line with their hands by their sides. Kageyama wrapped a hand around Shouyou’s wrist, setting his heart rate racing away without him. Before Shouyou could question him, he hovered Shouyou’s open palm over the top of the closet monkey’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, the monkey’s hands slowly click-clacked up to cover its ears. Shouyou made a happy noise of interest, and Kageyama let go of his wrist. Excited, Shouyou hovered his hands over the remaining monkeys to watch them cover their eyes and mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned around to Kageyama and asked, “are there more like these?” The smiles they found on each other’s faces were a hard earned reward for their exhausting day at the beach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama nodded and said, “yeah a few more.” He showed Hinata every hidden moving statue, for there were many tucked into the nooks and crannies of the temple complex. They walked by the pagoda just as the floodlights clicked on. The courtyard was empty, unlike Kageyama’s drawing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catching Shouyou’s confusion, he explained, “the temple asked me to draw the statues in the courtyard of the pagoda to make it more cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou took advantage of their pause and leaned against the fence surrounding the courtyard and the entrance they stood in. He hummed his approval and said, “They sought you out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama nodded, “Ukai has done work for them before, and he suggested that my sharp lines were what they were looking for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou stretched and socked Kageyama hard on the shoulder. “Have you finally learned to be shameless about your art?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama rubbed his arm where Shouyou had hit him. “It was Ukai who said it, not me. Plus, it’s hard to be self-effacing when I’ve got work in real galleries now. And other stuff, like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou jumped around Kageyama, excited. “There we go! Look at you Mr. Hot Shot! Knew you would get there eventually!” he laughed as he watched Kageyama’s face ripple, his mouth and brow unable to decide on one expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To avoid retaliation from the earlier hit, Shouyou changed the subject, “so what do you wanna do next?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The summer breeze came off the shore and shoved itself past Shouyou and Kageyama, singing it’s way up the mountain behind them. Together, they looked up at the dancing trees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama pointed at a set of stairs that disappeared into a small wood, “would you survive another climb?” The challenge was thick in the air, demanding to be answered. They walked normally like the real, tax-paying adults they were until they reached the bottom of the stairs. Even though neither of them gave a signal, they both took off as if they were twin bullets fired out of a double barrelled gun, until they reached the summit.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Declaring himself the winner, Kageyama wrapped his hands around the railing that protected hikers from the sharp cliff of the top of the little mountain. Shouyou lagged behind, the weight the ocean on his back. After taking some loud mouthfuls of air, Shouyou dragged his weary body to the railing, as well. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted his eyes and the vision before him ripped the hard-won air right out of his lungs. The ocean below danced for them under the rhythm of the wind and waves, just like the trees behind them were swaying. The lingering rays of sunlight refracted just right, pleading with Shouyou to come back and swim forever. He stepped up to balance his feet on the lower rung of the railing, heaving himself nearly over halfway over it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights on the Akashi bridge to his right were beginning to twinkle to life. From this height, he could feel the scale of the bridge, a spectacular monument to engineering and artistry. Though the bridge looked far away, the angle of their view felt similar to Kageyama’s gorgeous painting of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rush of wind flew up the side of the mountain, and Shouyou leaned even farther forward to meet it. He heard Kageyama bite back some kind of warning and turned toward the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama had a hand stretched out. It was ready to catch Shouyou if he fell, but he seemed to trust that he wouldn’t, not this time. The darkening sky behind Kageyama was every shade of blue stacked upon each other, bleeding at the edges. The black of Kageyama’s hair looked like another piece of the palette, waiting to be mixed in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face was a kaleidoscope of expression brought to life by the remaining sunlight. Shouyou couldn’t place what Kageyama might be seeing in Shouyou or behind him. He took a moment to try to match this expression with the other ones he knew so well. They were stuck: staring at each other and beyond each other into vast unknown they couldn’t quite comprehend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou couldn’t remember his original question, because he was drowning in the dark ocean of the sky. He watched the colors darken by the second; he caught a hold of a different, forgotten question that tasted like plum wine and summer breezes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s arm was still outstretched, and Shouyou scooted closer to Kageyama on the railing, hand over hand. He placed a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder, turning him to face the night and the waking stars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angling himself so he could see the sky from Kageyama’s perspective, Shouyou pointed a finger and asked, “Do you know the name of that shade of blue?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama followed the arrow of Shouyou’s arm and said in a voice as deep as the abyss above them, “cobalt, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou hummed, stepping off the railing and letting go of Kageyama's shoulder. Kageyama stood looking at the sky for a moment longer, before moving from the railing as well. A name for the expression arrived on the tip of Shouyou’s tongue; Kageyama had been looking at him in </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonder.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With the sun gone, the night was covered in that shade of blue. The same way Shouyou was smothered by the weight of-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your eyes,” he said. “It’s the same color as your eyes.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Was Kageyama's reveal okay? And no, the rapid on that line does NOT stop in the area I plopped the gallery in... shhhhhhh<br/>Bet you saw that coming!!!! Next week (hopefully) is the Kyoto shows whoop whoop</p><p>The wonderful, amazing, talented <a href="https://twitter.com/sonianime">Sonianime</a> drew a whole bunch of scenes from the chapter <a href="https://twitter.com/sonianime/status/1376598510343163911?s=20">including them climbing up the hill hehehe</a>. So please please go shower it in love!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Help Me Up From Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The long-awaited Kyoto shows</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! Thank you for coming back to read Of A Feather despite the long radio silence. This chapter wasn't really supposed to exist, but I wanted to expand on the friendship between the two bands more. I hope it's a fun read. </p><p>The title of this song comes from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/6SRMpCmXRkpdF9fTxHUd0w?si=_fnYQhszTnyFuToNuL_NJg"> We Got This by A Day to Remember</a>:<br/>"To anyone who's alone in a crowded room: put your hands up high, sing it out of tune. This is late night hours we spent that help me up from down."</p><p>We have only one more chapter to go after this and maybe an epilogue (hence the 12 chapters tentatively). No promises on the update, but I'm hoping some time within the next three weeks. Please subscribe if you want to be notified when the next chapter drops. </p><p>The heart of the chapter is the conversation between Atsumu and Shouyou which was inspired by the bridge of <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/6t87wHYpHlTwOctOS6GKXa?si=brDexdW-R8Go_jBVVVJzBQ">G.I.N.A.S.F.S. by Fall Out Boy</a><br/>"Born under a bad sign, but you saved my life that night on the roof of your hotel." I had written <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27613850">my Atsuhina fic</a> because I thought I wouldn't include this subplot, but it forced itself upon me anyway. </p><p>As always, here are the playlists for the bands:<br/><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1gBVMK6bop3WfbNRQXIAVG?si=DD9m0EiITpu9nFh7Ew7ZEw">Of A Feather</a><br/><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2mky0fm1xyTdSCVMXJ32XV?si=WCMpRjRIRqGbULJc9cg4dA">Fox Glove</a></p><p>Thank you for reading!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shouyou came into the house through the front door and resisted throwing himself to the ground as soon as he stepped up from the genkan. The spicy smell of some kind of food attracted him to the tatami room where the rest of the band was seated eating dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m back,” he called as he rounded the corner. They all welcomed him back, except for Akaashi, whose face was stuffed full.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scooting away from Kenma to make space for Shouyou, Kuroo asked, “did you eat yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, we were too wiped out from the beach to stop anywhere,” he lied. In reality, they had hardly said a word to each other as they climbed down the mountain. The day’s revelations and Shouyou’s words at the summit kept Kageyama and him lost in the pathways of their own heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi finally swallowed and said, “we’ve got plenty of takeout. Grab a plate while we push things around.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou turned to the kitchen and listened to the shuffling of boxes on the table and bodies sliding across the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he returned with a plate and a pair of chopsticks, he took a seat between Kenma and Kuroo, across from Akaashi and Bokuto. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diagonal from Shouyou, Oikawa pointed at him with his own chopsticks, “so was the beach as pretty as they say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Piling some yakisoba on to his plate, Shouyou nodded enthusiastically, “yeah! It was packed, though. We got there later than we had planned, and Kageyama didn’t let me forget it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo shot Shouyou a sidelong glance and asked, “did you get lost or something? You left the house plenty early.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Puffing out his chest in pride, Shouyou said, “I convinced him to show me one of his landscapes! It was really cool. It was of Awajima and the Akashi Bridge all lit up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa whined through a bite of fried vegetables. With his mouth full, he pouted, “did you take a picture?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma rolled his eyes, “that’s probably not allowed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he could have made an exception for me. I am very invested in Tobio’s art career,” Oikawa sniffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah right,” Kenma breathed, but turned back to picking out the carrots from his own plate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jumping back into the conversation, Shouyou said, “we were in the same area  as Konoha’s bakery, but I swear, there were like forty or a billion. It smelled awesome, but we couldn’t find it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto squawked and pulled out his phone, “Shit, sorry Shouyou! I forgot to respond to your text!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Embarrassed, Shouyou threw his hands up to wave away Bokuto’s apology, “it’s alright! We probably would have never snagged a spot at the beach if we had detoured again, so maybe you saved my day!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa clicked his tongue and pushed his empty plate away from him, “why would you text Bokuto? Akaashi’s the one with the address.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s eyes flashed to Akaashi and back to Bokuto, who caught the movement. Something dark made a home on Bokuto’s brow, and he angled his body to look at Akaashi better. For his part, Akaashi ignored his attention. He kept piling steaming rice on to his plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Akaashi…” Bokuto breathed out in disbelief. With his free hand, Akaashi pushed up his thick glasses but didn't respond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto spoke again, “Akaashi, you said you were going to talk to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not right now, Bokuto,” Akaashi replied, ice coating his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s fingertips felt cold where they wrapped around his chopsticks. Silently, Oikawa stood up and took his plate with him to the kitchen. With food still on their plates, Shouyou felt Kuroo and Kenma tense, unsure of where the conversation was going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not easily deterred, Bokuto pointed at Shouyou and said, “what, were you going to wait until it was too late for him to do anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t we talk about this later?” Akaashi asked, still avoiding eye-contact with everyone at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a frustrated exhale, Bokuto pushed again, “You said-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Koutarou, I know what I said,” Akaashi finally snapped as he slammed his chopsticks onto the table. Shouyou felt like the air pressure of the room just dropped, leaving him dizzy and lightheaded. It had been a long time since the last time Bokuto and Akaashi fought in front of others, and now, it was about Shouyou. He watched Kenma pick at the seam of his sweatpants. On his right, Kuroo watched the way Bokuto and Akaashi were coiled tight like springs. With his shoulders tense, Akaashi shot up from the table and stomped away. A few moments later, Shouyou heard the door to the bedroom slam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The storm on Bokuto’s face continued to thunder. He grabbed a clean napkin and placed it gently over Akaashi’s full plate of food. Then, he, too, shot up from the table. He offered a deep bow to the remaining band members and stomped off after Akaashi. Those at the table didn’t speak until they heard the door of the bedroom swing shut again, lighter than it had before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simultaneously, Kenma and Kuroo heaved out long sighs. Shouyou didn’t know he was shaking until Kenma wrapped a warm arm around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Kenma said as he leaned into Shouyou’s shoulder, “it’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not- they fought about me. Have they </span>
  <em>
    <span>been</span>
  </em>
  <span> fighting about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think Bokuto was just surprised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food in front of Shouyou looked like it was cooling and congealing, or maybe he had just lost his appetite. “I haven’t seen them fight since Bokuto’s 20th birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo took it upon himself to clean up their place settings, leaving Akaashi’s covered plate untouched. He inclined his head toward Shouyou before leaving for the kitchen, “couples fight. It’s not about you, Shouyou. I think Bokuto felt frustrated, and maybe Akaashi… well you know him better than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the second time this summer Kuroo had said that to him. It was true; Shouyou did know Akaashi. He must have felt put on the spot, rushed, doubted. That would have made Shouyou angry, too, he thought. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling suffocated inside of the house, Shouyou leaned back on the rickety, DIY wooden porch outside of the sliding doors off of the tatami room. The streetlights were far and away from the quiet backyard, and the stars twinkled above him to a beat he couldn’t hear. Instead, he heard hushed voices carrying from the bedroom Bokuto and Akaashi shared. They were quiet enough that Shouyou couldn’t make out the words. Still, they sounded soothing rather than angry, like gentle music in a foreign language. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou didn’t notice when the voices stopped, and the creak of the sliding door shocked Shouyou out of his stargazing. He looked back over his shoulder to watch Akaashi step into the remaining pair of rubber sandals that they kept by the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he made eye-contact with Akaashi, Shouyou figured he should say something. Nothing of meaning occurred to him, so he settled for a quiet greeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi tensed, his eyes picking Shouyou apart. Whatever he found on Shouyou’s face helped him relax as he came to sit next to him. For a few moments, they sat side by side listening to the music of the night. The cicadas were out in full force as they approached midsummer. Some kind of night-bird sang nearby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember when you and Kenma talked to Takeda on your birthday?” Akaashi asked, his voice just above a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou had to think about it for a moment; he had been well on his way to drunk when it had happened. He vaguely recalled mentioning their schedule and asking Kenma to talk to Takeda on behalf of the band.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little,” Shouyou said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi brought his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He pillowed his head on the tops of his knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve only the Kyoto shows left on our schedule, so Kenma asked Kuroo if we could play at the Alchemist some time after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking of Takeda’s enthusiasm, Shouyou smiled with excitement, “are we gonna do a set at the Alchemist?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Akaashi took a deep breath, “it’s going to be a lot smaller than we’re used to, and I thought-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He broke off and started a different train of thought, “I told Bokuto about what you asked, you know, singing. He took a bite out of me for it. Said it was good to experiment away from home, excitement, creativity. He made some other points.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Shouyou choked out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t do anything wrong, Shouyou,” Akaashi assured him. “But maybe I did,” he added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both sat with Akaashi’s admission. Shouyou didn’t know how to respond. He never blamed Akaashi for what he had said, not for a moment, but still, Shouyou hungered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi spoke again, “I was thinking that you could sing something at the Alchemist show. It’ll be an acoustic set anyway, with how little space we’ll have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he processed Akaashi’s words, Shouyou felt his heart come alive again. In disbelief, he asked, “really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi nodded, “really. I think it’ll be a good place to start. You can see if you enjoy it. And then we can go back to Sendai and play around with it some more. What do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou wasn’t sure he could think right now. All of his senses were a livewire as he realized he had been given a chance to fulfill his dream. It wasn’t shaped exactly as he had pictured it, but it was tangible. He could reach out and wrap a fist around it and never let go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to do it,” Shouyou said, determined. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi shifted his gaze to look up at the stars. “I’m sorry for the outburst at dinner. I… I didn’t know how to bring it all up. I know things haven’t been the same between us since our discussion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shook his head, “that’s my fault, too. I think my pride was hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, Akaashi confessed, “mine, too, maybe. You’re only a year younger than me, but sometimes I think I get overprotective. Bokuto has to pull me out of my head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou was still anxious from the fight, “everything’s okay though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi gave Shouyou a rare smile, “we’re just fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He unfolded his body and retreated to the door. With a quirked eyebrow, he silently asked Shouyou if he was coming back inside. Shouyou shook his head and wished Akaashi goodnight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the door and the curtain behind it were closed, Shouyou jumped to his feet and pulled out his cellphone with a trembling hand. He managed to click on the right contact. The other line rang several times before Kageyama’s tired voice greeted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hinata?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah it’s me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s up? Did you leave something in my bag? I told you to double-</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, shut up. Akaashi said I can perform a song.” Shouyou’s voice trembled from the excitement; he forgot all the awkwardness of the train ride back to Osaka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama matched Shouyou’s energy, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding even though Kageyama couldn’t see him, he replied, “yeah! At the Alchemist, once we’re done in Kyoto.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama sounded proud and fond when he said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s amazing. All you gotta do now is write a kickass song.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou kicked a rock in the backyard, embarrassed, “I don’t know about kickass…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama repeated the words he had told Hinata a few weeks ago, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>But you’ll try right? Because it’s what you want?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than anything,” Shouyou said, feeling the call of the unknown in the shade of the mountain of his dream. “I already have a little bit of an idea.” He felt like he found the first handhold on the steep cliff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I wouldn’t expect anything less.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou hummed in response, unsure of what to say next but still not ready to hang up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama asked, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>are you back at Kitaichi anytime soon?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Shouyou said, “no, we’ll be preparing to go on the road with Fox Glove.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be really busy, but I can come see you. At Kitaichi or the studio,” Shouyou said hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You go back to Sendai at the end of August, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m… I’m going to be busy for a while, but I’ll come to the Alchemist show, okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That was nearly a month away. Hurt, Shouyou said, “if that’s what you want. I guess I can concentrate on writing my song if you’re not around to bug me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve got stuff I want to work on, too,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kageyama responded, with less heat than he would usually throw at Shouyou. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling brave, he asked, “can I call you? Sometimes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, that sounds good.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, no take-backs. Goodnight, Kageyama.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama’s strained voice stopped him from hanging up, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hinata, wait!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Can I… is it okay if I paint you again?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou felt something like an electric shock travel from the phone through his ear and down his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said the only complaint he could think of, “I don’t have time to sit for it, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughter curled right into Shouyou’s ear as it passed through the phone, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I think I’ll manage without a reference for this one.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> Kageyama didn’t paint people… but he had never stopped drawing Shouyou. As the words sunk in, he wondered… if maybe…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to ask,” Shouyou said, shaking his head to wave away the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Alright. I’ll try to finish it before you leave,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kageyama promised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The effect of the ocean continued to rock Shouyou, even though it had been hours since he hid in the waves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You sound exhausted, dumbass. Get some sleep.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou crept back into the house. After giving Kenma a small wave, he took his time in the shower and allowed himself to soak in the bath. The steam felt good on his sore muscles. As he relaxed, he went over the day’s events in his head. For nearly all of high school, they had been loving each other quietly, in their own ways. Kageyama had continued to draw him long after they parted; had he continued to love Shouyou, even after breaking his heart?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After cataloguing their conversations on the shore and on the mountain, he revisited the conversation he had had with Kenma about his expectations for this restarted friendship. He had been operating under very different assumptions when he had told Kenma all he expected and desired was friendship. But, what if they could… could they?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the last one to bathe for the evening, Shouyou unplugged the drain and sat in the deep tub until all of the water flowed away. After drying off and returning to the tatami room, he pulled out his futon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pausing his game, Kenma said, “by the way, Shouyou, Fox Glove’s coming over for dinner Friday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprised, Shouyou double checked he had heard Kenma correctly, “Fox Glove? Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a wave of one of his remotes, Kenma explained, “it’s mostly to make sure we’re all on the same page for logistics. Plus, Kita said it would be a waste if our bands didn’t get to know each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laying down and resting his head on his arms, Shouyou asked, “have you been talking to Kita a lot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah. I am the band’s manager, no matter what Kuroo says,” Kenma said, but Shouyou could tell his best friend was hedging. As of late, Kenma had been keeping a lot of secrets. Shouyou wasn’t sure if it was his place to ask, even if he was still worried about Kenma and Kuroo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re alright, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma doesn’t smile, but he blinks slowly at Shouyou, fondness evident in his expression. “Yeah, I’m just working on stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stuff you can tell me about sometime?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Shouyou said as he drifted off to sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of A Feather spent the next few days cleaning the house at Akaashi’s insistence, even as Oikawa complained that they were going to barbequing outside to accommodate not only the heat but also because they made such a large group. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m allergic to dust, you know,” Oikawa said, coughing dramatically in the hallway by the room he shared with Kuroo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto popped his head out of the bathroom to say, “I have a packet of masks, if you want take one!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the kitchen, Kuroo laughed, “he’s just being a princess, Bo. If you talk to him, it encourages his bad behavior.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, okay,” Bokuto replied, “but the offer still stands! I also have medicine if you get a headache or something!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou was in the tatami room, gathering the futons with Akaashi, who said, “I don’t understand why Bokuto fusses over Oikawa so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about it for a moment and replied, “isn’t it because Iwaizumi isn’t here to do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi’s next words slipped from his mouth like water through a sieve, “I love him.” When Shouyou looked at him, Akaashi paused and rebooted. “I said that outloud didn’t I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded, “it was cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least it was you that heard me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anyone else would have teased Akaashi for the light pink blush dusting his sharp cheeks, but Shouyou was the romantic of the band. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Friday, Fox Glove pulled up to the backyard in their van with Aran in the driver’s seat. The members of Of A Feather fought to get out the glass sliding doors of the house to greet them. With a yell of triumph, Shouyou won the battle and slipped out of the house first. He waved both hands enthusiastically as Aran parked the van.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu jumped out, “hey, Shouyou!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of Fox Glove climbed out of the van. As a greeting, Osamu hefted a large, heavy shopping bag above his head. “We brought the goods!” he announced. Suna held up a case of beer for emphasis. Bokuto whooped in delight as he flew out of the house. The pair trailed after him as he led them to the grill in the opposite corner of the backyard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Aran rounded the back of the van and pulled out his guitar. Appearing beside Shouyou, Kenma greeted Kita with a small bow, and they walked away together like two suspicious peas in a pod. After Kuroo and Aran shook hands, they watched the managers settle on the spread out sheets under the shade of the trees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing next to Shouyou, Atsumu tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans and asked, “so how have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tilting his head, Shouyou said, “alright. I went to the beach the other day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu’s grin slid to one side, “yeah? Which one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one right past downtown Kobe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No shit, where the train line ends? ‘Samu and I went there all the time growing up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They joined the rest of the group on the sheets where Akaashi and Oikawa had brought out the low table from the tatami room. There were so many conversations going on, it made Shouyou feel a little dizzy. He heard Oikawa cheer over by the grill and saw him climb back into the house to put the case of beer in the fridge. He nearly plowed into Akaashi, who was carrying a massive tray of glasses in one hand and a massive pitcher of iced barley tea in the other. When Akaashi let out a distressed noise and the tray pitched dangerously, Kita, the closest to the house, sprang up from the sheets to steady the tray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Akaashi said as Kita took the tray’s weight, “do you think you could put it on the table?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, they distributed the glasses of iced tea amongst the bands. Akaashi disappeared back into the house, and Kita carefully balanced three glasses in his hands to give to the men manning the grill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou and Atsumu continued to talk about the beachside town and it’s curiosities. From the way Atsumu talked about the nooks and crannies of it, Shouyou could tell he had not even glimpsed half of the magic the town held. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to go back sometime,” Shouyou told him. Maybe, they would all have the chance to go together someday, Fox Glove and Of A Feather. The synergy between them all thrummed through the air. He said a small prayer to Yaku in his mind, thankful that he had connected the two bands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should go together,” Atsumu said, voicing what Shouyou had thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou nodded with vigor, “Yeah! I bet it’d be fun to all go, right? We could even get a watermelon, I bet!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From his seat on the other side of Atsumu, Kita hid a laugh in his own shoulder. With a smirk, he said, “yeah, Atsumu, buy us a watermelon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tease me, Kita. I’m trying here,” Atsumu whined quietly. His response shocked Shouyou. He seemed like a different person than the one he had barrelled into at Kitaichi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kita ruffled Atsumu’s hair fondly before refocusing his attention on Kenma’s phone screen. He accepted an earphone from Kenma, and they spent the rest of the set up for the barbeque clicking through videos and whispering to each. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, last night’s Shouyou’s intuition about Kita being involved in Kenma’s recent secrecy had been correct. Still, he couldn’t even begin to divine what they could be doing together. Seeing as they were both managers of rambunctious bands, it had to be something to do with at least one of the bands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou, did you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jumped out of his mental investigation. Atsumu looked at him, as if waiting for a response. As an apology, he flashed Atsumu a small smile and an awkward laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I got caught up smelling the steaks,” he explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu faked a groan, “right? It was kind of gross being in the van with it, but now, it smells crazy good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they continued to cook in their corner of the backyard, Bokuto ran back and forth into the house to grab platters and plates. Every time Shouyou tried to get up to help his bandmates set up their dinner, he was waved away. When all the meat was done cooking, Osamu carried two massive serving dishes piled high with steak and grilled chicken over to the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrowed his gray eyes at Atsumu and asked, “did you ask Hinata about the drums?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drums?” Shouyou parroted, turning his attention to Atsumu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu grimaced, “slipped my mind. We were talking about-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu rolled his eyes and ignored him, “can’t trust him to ask a simple question. I was wondering if you were fine using my kit in Kyoto. You didn’t mind it at Wonderland, right?” Osamu’s smile was less sharp than Atsumu’s, despite their matching faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! Well, I mean, no I didn’t mind,” Shouyou replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From his seat with Aran, right behind where Osamu was standing, Kuroo chimed in, “That’s a really good idea.” He leaned his long body back to grab a peak at Kita and Kenma. After grabbing Kita’s attention, he asked, “how are you guys getting to Kyoto? Your label hook you guys up or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling out the earphone, Kita said, “yeah, we’ve got a bus, since we’ll be carting around more equipment than usual. It’s way bigger than we need for us and our couple of roadies.  You need a ride?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo nodded, “we can offer to pay for the use, if that helps grease the wheels with the Powers That Be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kita hummed thoughtfully, before saying, “I’ll discuss it with our representative and let Kenma know what they say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phrasing seemed to catch not only Shouyou’s attention but Kuroo’s as well. He wasn’t used to people wanting to talk to logistics with the band’s actual manager, since Kuroo was more personable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” he decided.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa and Akaashi laid out the last sets of side dishes on the incredibly crowded table. They would need to balance their plates on their laps, but the atmosphere reminded Shouyou of high school events and flower viewing parties in the spring. Together, they ate and joked about anything that came sideways out of Atsumu’s mouth. Like Oikawa, Suna had a penchant for gesticulating with his cutlery. Despite his deadpan voice, he was an excellent storyteller at the expense of the twins’ dignity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kita enjoyed each story, adding pertinent details that Suna missed or misremembered. Across the table, Osamu took the roasting better than Atsumu, who spluttered and sprayed rice all over his plate every time Suna said something scandalous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Suna came to the end of a strange story about drunken Atsumu getting his head stuck between banisters, he said, “I wish we had got that on camera, because when he wasn’t screaming, he was talking nonsense about the doctors needing to solve their own problems before trying to talk to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Akaashi blinked and looked at Atsumu, “you don’t strike me as the non-sequitur type.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, Atsumu brought his cool beer can to his face. Nearby Akaashi, Osamu said, “you’re acting like drunkards know how to grasp the finer threads of conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto, Kuroo, and Oikawa choked around their own sips of beer, perhaps well on their way to being buzzed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the topic of cameras,” Kita cut in, “our label is sending a photographer for the shows. It’s mostly for social media and maybe a small ad or two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo let out a breathless laugh, “gods, I keep forgetting you guys are hitting the big leagues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu clicked his tongue and killed his beer before saying, “I don’t know. It feels weird to hear that when we haven’t even really played in Tokyo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a tough scene to break into,” Aran mused, trying to scoop up soumen with his fork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kita told Kuroo, “We’re in Kyushu after Kyoto, and then we’ve got about a month off before we hit Eastern Japan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou had just shoveled some chicken into his mouth, and he made a noise to grab some attention. All of eyes were fixed on him. Thinking Shouyou was struggling to eat, Atsumu thumped him on the back. It didn’t help Shouyou’s rush to swallow, but eventually he managed to say, “hey! We’ll be back in Sendai by then!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Atsumu smirked. “You gonna come down and see us in Tokyo, then, Shouyou?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding hard enough some soumen flew off his plate, he said, “oh, definitely! You guys are amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu’s smile tightened and his cheeks caught fire. He lifted his beer to his mouth and back down several times without committing to drinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, Atsumu?” Shouyou asked, confused. He heard Osamu bark out a laugh. Shouyou looked over to see him muffling it against Suna’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Osamu recovered, he said, “oi, Tsumu-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu cut him off, flashing him a rude finger gesture, “shut it, ‘Samu.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Osamu looked ready to fire something back at Atsumu, but a shush from Kita made everyone present return their attention to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “As I was saying, they’re sending a photographer, and I was wondering if you wanted to use his services as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou and Bokuto let out similar squawks of excitement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’d be pretty awesome,” Bokuto yelled before looking at Akaashi. “It’d be nice to have proper shots of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo leered at him, “don’t you mean of all of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure yeah, whatever,” Bokuto teased back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Bokuto’s attention off of him, Akaashi asked Kita, “would he be okay with that? Or, maybe it would be something to ask your representative from the label?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kita thought for a moment and replied, “he’s already going to be at the venue; it shouldn't be too difficult to convince him to snap some shots of you all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even with the assurance, Kuroo didn’t look convinced, “we gotta pay him for the extra effort, right? I don’t know if we really…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true; they needed to make what was left of their funds last for another month and a half.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma scoffed from his seat beside Kita. Shouyou leaned around Atsumu to look at him. Nonchalant, Kenma was scrolling through his phone. He didn’t bother to look up when he said, “don’t worry about that. We’ve been doing good at the merch table, and I’ve got some funds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pouting, Kuroo argued, “you don’t need to be spending your own money, Kenma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes and tongue sharp, Kenma explained, “I’m thinking ahead, here. We need professional photographs if we want to keep growing, online and in real life. Don’t give yourself a headache worrying about it, Kuroo. I can manage it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Kuroo could do something crazy like try to strangle his best friend, Bokuto’s voice broke through the tension, “that’s awesome, Kenma!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting up to get a new beer, Oikawa agreed, “yeah, great idea. Hajime will finally have no excuse to not have my photo at his desk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross,” Kuroo mocked him, lifting a long leg to kick Oikawa in the rear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone erupted into laughter when Oikawa dramatically yelped and threatened to kill Kuroo in his sleep. Shouyou knew that even if Oikawa didn’t actually kill Kuroo, he would do something petty like pour beer all over his sheets. He had seen drunk Oikawa do that to Iwaizumi’s briefcase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath the cacophony of laughter, Kita and Kenma continued to discuss how to best contact the photographer. Shouyou was happy that Kenma was forging a professional connection, at the very least. Maybe, Kita could be a friend to Kenma, too. His presence was calming and steady. It didn’t demand more of Kenma than he could give, like the gravity of personalities like Oikawa or Bokuto. From what Shouyou could see, Kita treated Kenma with the professionalism and respect that Kuroo had trouble giving to him. It was a vortex of opposite concepts that should leave Kenma feeling overwhelmed and unmoored. Instead, Kenma seemed to be thriving this summer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were all growing in their own ways, Shouyou decided.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fox Glove’s bus that would take both bands on the two hour drive to their hotel in Kyoto was just as big as Kita had promised at the barbeque. The storage under the bus was packed full of instruments and other equipment by the time Of A Feather arrived at the parking lot of the label’s Osaka branch. Shouyou wasn’t used to not packing his own equipment into the vehicle, but the roadies that would be joining them for the duration of their time in Kyoto plucked the guitar and bag holding his drumsticks out of his hands and waved him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Free of his gear and thankful he was sharing Osamu’s drum kit, Shouyou climbed into the bus and looked for a place to sit. Shockingly, Kenma had already set himself up two rows behind the driver’s seat. He looked up when he felt Shouyou stop to gape at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got stuff to discuss with Kita, plus, probably good for me to be up here right?” he told Shouyou.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a whine stolen right out of Oikawa’s repertoire, Shouyou asked, “how much longer until you let the rest of us in the loop with whatever you’re planning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face betraying nothing, Kenma said, “when I have the basics set up, Shouyou.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, fine. But I want to know,” Shouyou pouted as he retreated further into the bus. He heard Kuroo come in and give Kenma the same grilling Shouyou had, though Kenma had less humor with him. Whatever was going on between the two of them ran deeper than Kuroo’s quiet romance with Yaku. The instability of their interactions still left Shouyou worried, but it wasn’t something that could be improved by him jabbing his fingers into the wound when they weren’t needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Preoccupied with Kuroo and Kenma, Shouyou barely noticed Atsumu waving at him from the back of the bus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou! Over here, I saved you a seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking around the bus, Shouyou saw there were plenty of seats he could choose from, but he walked over to Atsumu and sat in the seat he had been gesturing to. Atsumu had a tablet in his lap opened to youtube, and he handed over an earphone as soon as Shouyou had settled his overnight bag into the overhead storage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you watching,” he asked as he crammed in the earphone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pressure’s latest music video,” Atsumu said as he typed in the title of the Ushijima’s band’s latest single into the search bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Excited, Shouyou leaned further into Atsumu’s space saying, “oh! I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet. Is it good?” The angle Atsumu was holding the tablet at made it hard for Shouyou to see it without squishing his face against Atsumu’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The song’s amazing, of course, the bastards,” Atusmu replied, his voice no longer playfully panicked like it had been at the barbeque. “I like watching the music videos to watch Ushijima’s dumb face, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snickering, Shouyou said, “he is rather expressionless isn’t he? They usually focus on Semi in music videos, yeah? Can’t say I’ve seen all of them though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I would say Pressure couldn’t hold a candle to Fox Glove in the looks department, but they do have Semi’s gorgeous face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suna is rather pretty, too, objectively,” Shouyou mused as the music video began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu sounded like he was choking on his own tongue before he asked, “Just Suna?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou thought about it for a moment, “He’s the most like Semi, so he’s the one that came to mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They watched the new music video together in silence, and Shouyou pointed out all of the ones he had yet to watch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before the bus left the highway and parked itself in the parking lot of the venue for tomorrow night’s concert. Shouyou gave Atsumu the earphone back and made to stand up, but Atsumu grabbed his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re just dropping off the equipment. We’re gonna head to the hotel next,” Atsumu explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As gently as he could manage, Shouyou yanked his arm back from Atsumu, “oh, crap! I gotta rescue my guitar!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jumped through the bus, dodging bags, long legs, and sleeping bandmates before nearly rolling down the steps to reach the outside. He talked with one of the roadies and accepted his guitar when it was offered to him. After climbing back on to the bus with the heavy guitar case lifted above his head, he banged his leg against one of the seats. Hoping not to wake any of the sleepers, Shouyou managed to keep in a yelp of pain inside his chest. A row ahead of him, Osamu cracked open an eye. Suna was drooling on his shoulder, dead to the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch,” Osamu whispered in sympathy. Shouyou offered him a grin and continued his slow progress back to his seat next to Atsumu. He didn’t want to have to wedge it into the seat by the window and be forced to pull it back out in just a few minutes, so he plopped it into the seat next to Atsumu instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t wanna sit next to me anymore?” Atsumu asked playfully, making Shouyou puff out a small laugh. </span>
</p><p><span>“I thought we watched all the music videos already?”</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>Mumbling to himself, Atsumu shoved the tablet into his backpack.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they checked into the hotel, Shouyou was pleased he was rooming with Kenma. They were both the least likely to try to party on this free night. He needed to use what little time he had to work on his song. The Alchemist show was only a couple of weeks away, and Shouyou was more nervous about that small performance than he had been the whole summer. He knew what words he wanted to say, inspired by the day at the beach and the intoxicating dusk he viewed from the mountaintop. Wrestling out a melody was proving the bigger part of the battle, and he was nervous about asking Akaashi for singing advice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overall, what was left of the tension between them had bled away, and he knew Akaashi would do anything to help Shouyou succeed. However, Shouyou felt like he wanted to surprise Akaashi at the Alchemist show. It would be proof of the trust Akaashi had decided to give him had been well-placed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the two bands took over a small yakitori restaurant, Shouyou and Kenma fought over who would get to shower first. Like the adults they were, they settled it with a round of janken. Always the winner, Kenma grinned as he threw himself into the bathroom to wash off the gross, lingering meat smell from their dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing Kenma was going to soak for the better part of the next hour, Shouyou pulled out his guitar. When he was done double checking the tuning, he began to fiddle with his song. He wanted to be able to play this song, close his eyes, and see the patchwork sky he had seen with Kageyama. The next string of notes made Shouyou’s chest tingle; he grabbed his phone and his small notebook to mark what he had just happened upon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After about twenty minutes, someone knocked on the hotel room door. When Shouyou pulled it open, he was surprised to see Atsumu waiting for him, dressed up in a pair of nice black pants and a deep maroon button up shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouyou! Hey, I forgot to ask at dinner,” he said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and slouching, “I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to the bar across the street? Aran and Kita wanted to check it out. Figured I’d ask you along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou scrunched up his face, “that’s nice of you, Atsumu, but I’m trying to work on a song right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Atsumu said, sounding disappointed. He recovered and asked, “is it going okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou leaned into the doorway, tired. “I think I’m making progress, but it’s definitely been a struggle. I gotta finish it soon, too.” He wondered if he was boring Atsumu with his complaints. Someone like the lead singer of Fox Glove probably wrote killer songs in his sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually, thinking about it, Shouyou asked, “Do you think you could help me with it? Sometime.” Maybe he would be better off caving and asking Akaashi, afterall, but ever since the barbeque, Shouyou had felt that he and Atsumu were friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The disappointed look left Atsumu's eyes, and his voice dripped with excitement when he replied, “yeah, whenever you’d like! I’m down to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou tapped the doorframe in a whacky cadence. He felt more fired up to keep working on his song. The more he got done, the better Atsumu could help him fine tune it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou smiled and lifted himself from the doorframe, “That’d be so awesome, thanks! I don’t want to keep you too long, but see you tomorrow for the sound check, yeah?” Atsumu nodded, and Shouyou added, “it’s still weird to have not done the load-in myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding one more time, Atsumu said, “the bigger the venue, the more hands off it feels. I still like to double check everything, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teasing him, Shouyou said, “I didn’t peg you for control freak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu sputtered and harumped, a similar indignation Shouyou had seen throughout the barbeque. “‘Samu will say I am, but I don’t think so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a joke, Atsumu, don’t worry. Thanks for the invite,” Shouyou said, itching to pick his guitar back up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Shouyou, good luck with your songwriting. I’m looking forward to hearing what you make.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do,” Shouyou sang as Atsumu walked away down the hall with a casual wave goodbye thrown over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he closed the door, Kenma emerged from the steaming bathroom with his hair piled in a messy knot on the top of his head. He looked so calm and refreshed, Shouyou suddenly wanted nothing more than to soak in the tub himself for the next hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throwing himself into bed and picking up his phone, Kenma asked, “who was at the door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he gathered his clothes for the shower, Shouyou said, “Just Atsumu. He wanted to know if I wanted to hang out, but I told him I was working on my song.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma hummed, his curiosity sated. The conversation obviously finished, Shouyou stepped up into the bathroom. The hot shower felt good after the couple of hours they had spent cramped in the bus. He was excited for the next night; they were scheduled to play at a fairly large venue. Fox Glove loved haunting their local Osaka clubs, but they really pulled in the crowds to fill regular concert venues. He skipped soaking in the tub in favor of returning to his guitar before Kenma could fall asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Shouyou stepped out of the bathroom, Kenma lifted his head to watch Shouyou stretch and pick up his guitar. After Shouyou sat down with it in his lap, Kenma said, “I think Atsumu has a crush on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearly dropping his pick into the guitar, Shouyou yelled, “you think what?! You’re reading too much into it, Kenma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a shrug of his shoulders, Kenma explained, “he sticks to you like glue. I think it’s cute. Could help you get over Kageyama.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distressed, Shouyou confessed, “actually…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it,” Kenma grinned like he just won a difficult boss battle on the first try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Shouyou wailed, frustrated and embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and Kageyama are obviously gone for each other, no matter what you say about the past.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou leaned his hot face against the cool body of his guitar. Kenma had only really seen the two of them at his birthday over a month ago and at their last show at Kitaichi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really think Kageyama sees me like that?” he softly asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two seem like in your own little world. I said it before, I’ll be shocked if he’s not in love with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not finding a good time to say it, Shouyou had yet to fill Kenma in on what he had learned on the beach. “About that… at the beach he told me that he liked me back when we were in high school.” He lifted his head to see Kenma’s reaction. His mouth was turned up into a small grin; which translated to positively beaming in Kenma’s world. With little goading from Kenma, Shouyou told him the pieces of the story he felt comfortable sharing: homophobic parents and fear of being seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now?” Kenma asked when Shouyou finished. “Did you tell him that you still feel the same way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Setting aside his guitar, Shouyou melted onto the floor. He covered his eyes and asked the ceiling, “should I have? It didn’t really feel like the right moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Kenma breath hard out of his nose from his bed, “the man takes you on dates all over Kansai, invites you to his studio, paints you, and basically confesses to you and you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the fence? What’s the worst that can happen? He says ‘no thank you?’” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, Kenma continued, “he’s not going to cut you out of his life again, no matter what happens, Shouyou. You have to know that by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because I should know doesn’t make it any less scary,” Shouyou retorted, more exhausted than upset. After his own lengthy exhale, he said, “But you’re right. I could… I could tell him. Really tell him this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better,” Kenma warned and turned out the lights.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two bands rolled into the venue thirty minutes early for the soundcheck, jostling each other and making fun of the bags under Atsumu’s eyes. In retaliation, he jumped onto Osamu’s back and forced him to carry him toward the green room. Despite his threats to drop him, Osamu held up Atsumu until he was able to dump him onto a couch. Kita perched himself on the arm of the couch and poked Atsumu’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have invited you out last night if I had known you weren’t going to take it easy,” he told him with another poke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since when do either of the twins take it easy,” Suna quipped as he sat down on Atsumu’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Atsumu finally shot back, “I didn’t drink that much, okay? I just had a lot on my mind!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That got Shouyou’s attention, “are you okay, Atsumu?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Atsumu’s only response was a deep sigh, Aran turned to Shouyou and explained, “he met someone at the bar last night.” He winked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That relieved Shouyou. Obviously, Kenma had misread Atsumu’s attachment to him. He loathed the idea of having to let Atsumu down easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu’s muffled and strained voice rose from the couch, “oi, don’t make it sound so scandalous. We just talked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your face is really red, Atsumu,” Kita pointed out with a final poke to Atsumu’s cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Atsumu could dig himself into a grave, the bands were swept up into preparing for the soundcheck. Together with the venue staff and the roadies, they went over the configurations of the equipment. They crisscrossed the stage over and over as they shifted around the instruments and wires. For once, Oikawa didn’t complain about the placement of his keys. He looked less effervescent that usual, like he forgot to recharge the batteries of his light. Bokuto threw an arm over Oikawa’s shoulder and praised him for not kicking up a fuss in front of the professionals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With some of his usual bite, Oikawa said, “I’m a professional, too! I’m just feeling gracious today. Appreciate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, Bokuto squeezed the arm he had around Oikawa tighter, “I know, I know. What colors are we feeling today?” Their conversation trailed off as they walked back to the greenroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A familiar voice grabbed Shouyou’s attention, “Hinata, do you know where my idiot is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearly jumping out of his skin, Shouyou spun around to find Iwaizumi awkwardly standing at the base of the stage. Carefully, he vaulted off the stage to stand before Iwaizumi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you get in here?” he asked, grabbing a hold of Iwaizumi’s arm to drag him to the greenroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I called Akaashi to arrange it,” he explained, sounding nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou’s laughter escaped him, “I can’t believe it! He didn’t even tell me! Does Oikawa know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi lifted an eyebrow, “No, he doesn’t know, and you would have spilled the first time you made eye contact with him. I wanted it to be a surprise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They entered the greenroom where Bokuto was bent over Oikawa’s face with a massive eyeshadow palette in his hand. His body blocked Oikawa from view, therefore blocking Iwaizumi from his line of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa seemed to be mid rant, “-you know? So it feels really weird to be back here without him? I don’t think I’ve told him how much I miss him, but I do, a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto hummed in sympathy as Iwaizumi approached, “yeah, that’s really rough, huh? Oikawa, stop that you can’t cry until we set your face!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I come back later, then?” Iwaizumi finally spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa and Bokuto yelled out matching screams. Bokuto jumped out of the way, revealing a shocked Oikawa. His eyes were glassy and his mouth had fallen open into a gentle ‘o.’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi cleared his throat when Oikawa didn’t move, “I missed you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The spell on Oikawa now broken, he leapt into Iwaizumi’s arms, yelling, “Hajime!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you so shocked, dork? I thought I told you I was going to come down for these shows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa bent his face into the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck, “you said you were going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span>, my poor little corporate slave. It’s not romantic if you lost your job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi scoffed, “I do have some vacation days, dummy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An hour before the doors were set to open, Akaashi and Atsumu warmed up their voices. After trading bets about the probability of the venue’s bar having hot tea on hand, the singers, along with Bokuto and Shouyou, wandered over to the bar where the bartenders were setting up for the night. They secured the tea for the singers and waters for the ever-hyper Bokuto and Shouyou. Akaashi and Atsumu traded on stage horror stories of cracked voices and faulty microphones on their slow walk back to the greenroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they came through the door with Atsumu at the head of the pack, he stopped suddenly. Shouyou stumbled into him. He peered around to see what the problem was. Across the room, an unbelievably tall, dark haired man with a fancy camera looped around his neck was talking with Kita and Kenma. Most of his face was covered by black mask, leaving just his eyes and forehead visible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu found his lungs and loudly said, “You-” The stranger turned toward Atsumu. Based on the downward turn of his eyebrows, he was not happy to see Atsumu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kita’s voice cut in, “Atsumu, there you are. This is Sakusa Kiyoomi, he’s the photographer the label sent us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… really?” Atsumu asked, trying to recover from his initial reaction to seeing Sakusa in the greenroom. Even Shouyou could tell something fishy was going on, but no one else in the greenroom asked any questions, so he kept his own to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After saying some quiet words to the managers, Sakusa strided over to the musicians by the door. “Actually, Miya I have some questions, do you mind sparing a few minutes?” His voice was like gravel and grave, like there were a million things he would rather do than speak to Atsumu. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thrusting his untouched tea into Shouyou’s chest, Atsumu didn’t even bother to double check that Shouyou had actually landed a hand on the cup before following Sakusa out into the venue. Shouyou stared after them long after the door had clicked shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they returned a few minutes later, Atsumu looked like a kicked puppy, but the look transformed into something dreamy the closer they ticked down to showtime. Every time Shouyou passed Atsumu’s spot on the couch, he heard him humming a tune with his eyes closed. When Of A Feather was ready to take the stage, Atsumu opened his eyes and waved a casual “good luck” at Akaashi and Shouyou.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, the band passed through the thick curtains of the wings and onto the dark stage. Voices reverberated off the walls of the venue; without the harshest of the stage lights, Shouyou could see a sea of people that could rival the crowds he had seen in Shinsaibashi. An electric shock ran through him as soon as he took his seat at Osamu’s drum set. He gave the kick drum an experimental </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span> like daydreamers pinch their skin to check their wakefulness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From his spot further downstage, Kuroo strummed nonsense. Tonight, they had decided to open with an older song. Usually, they saved it for warmups or just messing around together. Musically, it wasn’t as strong of an opener, but Akaashi had asked for them to play it tonight. It made his voice shine, and no one could think of a reason to deny him. Instead, they rearranged the set so they could continue to build the energy of the crowd like they had done every time they opened for Fox Glove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without any preamble, Oikawa hit two discordant notes on his keys, harmonizing with the Akaashi’s vocalization. As Oikawa’s keys continued to descend, Shouyou started the kick drum. Kuroo’s guitar rose up like a siren; the chaos of the noise not unlike something Fox Glove would play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><a href="https://youtu.be/9XIrwArBrdc">Ah, honey, I forgive you, but you made, oh you made it difficult.</a>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The keys took over the whine that Kuroo’s movement had created, and Shouyou’s cymbals  crashed along with the wail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh darling, I’ve been trying to live without you, oh but you made, oh you made it difficult. Oh darling, I wish we could go back to heaven.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Every word from Akaashi’s mouth was syrup smooth, sliding across the cacophony of thunder crashes. In the background, floating high above him, Oikawa crooned. His voice like hot air filling their balloon and carrying them away to a place where only the music and the claps of the audience existed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The keys finally decided on a melody, leaving the drums and Akaashi’s bass to carry the descent into the final verse. It was the first song of the night, but Shouyou’s arms were already tense from the harsh hits to his cymbals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything except Akaashi and Oikawa’s voices cut away, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>sing it out, ah, ah, ah.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>All of the instruments came back in together as everyone, including the Shouyou, yelled out the final “ah” with such force, they fell into a fit of laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he regained himself, Kuroo addressed the crowd, “wow, how did you all fit inside this place? Glad you’re here. We’re Of A Feather, all the way from Sendai. That was ‘The Liftaway,’ and we’ve got a few more songs for you before those foxes come out. Let’s have some fun!”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The crowd was massive on both nights, Kageyama! I wish you could have seen it! It was like </span>
  <em>
    <span>fwuaaah </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>woaaaah</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama laughed into Shouyou’s ear over the telephone line. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Are those even words?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me put you on hold to check the dictionary I always keep in my pocket. Anyway, Fox Glove’s set was amazing, too. I love how they always open up with ‘Love is Dead’ ‘cause the crowd always knows Suna’s lines. It just gives me chills, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I do know. The goosebumps you get are like the size of quail eggs. It’s creepy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as creepy as your face,” Shouyou huffed and stepped into the hotel. He had dialed Kageyama as soon as they had stepped off the bus. Kenma had taken the room key and gone on ahead while Shouyou soaked up the humid summer evening. Eventually, the night had started to feel suffocating, so he admitted defeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had planned to continue his phone conversation in the room, but Kageyama was attacked by a massive, nearly unending yawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should go to sleep if you’re gonna try to knock me over with all that wind,” Shouyou joked as he waited for the elevator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess you’re right. Glad you had a good show.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kageyama yawned again when he finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks. Don’t burn the candle at both ends, okay? You know better than that,” Shouyou chided him before they said goodnight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hung up in the elevator and hummed what he could remember of the tune Atsumu had humming in the greenroom. As Shouyou picked apart the few notes, he thought it was melancholy, and he wondered if it had any lyrics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator door opened to the floor of his room, revealing not an empty hallway but Atsumu pacing a few doors down from Kenma and Shouyou’s room. He had a marker in his hand and a pad of sticky notes that he was scribbling on and discarding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou stepped out of the elevator, and Atsumu’s head snapped up from the sticky notes as the door clicked shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey Shouyou, what’s up?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the show. He tucked the sticky notes and the uncapped marker into the back pocket of his jeans. By his appearance, Shouyou guessed he had yet to shower after the show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Shouyou responded, “just going to my room.” He gestured at his door. “What are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>doing? Osamu locked you out like he threatened to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu rolled his eyes, “no way, I took the key, so I locked </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> out this time. I’m obviously the smarter twin tonight. I was just… writing down some thoughts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou didn’t particularly buy it, but he said, “Oh, okay. The hotel rooms are a little small to pace in, huh? I’ve found it a little hard to come up with ideas for my song right now…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu crossed over to stand next to Shouyou. He leaned his back against the wall and turned his head to face him and asked, “how’s that going, by the way? Make any progress last night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Playing with the door handle, Shouyou said, “I think overall, I’ll be done in time for the show I’m going to play it at. It could still use something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>uwaaah</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make it extra good, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu chuckled; he looked tired, but his grin and words were lively when he asked, “wanna show me what you got?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right now?!” Shouyou asked, feeling any tiredness that might have been hiding in his body melt away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, grab your guitar, we can set up shop in my room. Bet ‘Samu already gave up and decided to bunk with Suna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Shouyou told him to wait while he knocked on the door for Kenma to let him inside. After he snatched up his guitar and stole the key from Kenma, he followed Atsumu down the hall to his room. Like Shouyou’s room, it had two beds and not much room for anything else. Atsumu stomped over to the bed by the window and straightened out the covers before flopping face down on it on the end of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou sat down further up the bed, positioning his guitar on his lap. He patted his pockets for a pick, but he had forgotten to grab one. Lifting his arm, Atsumu presented a pick to Shouyou like a piece of gold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Shouyou told him. When Atsumu pushed himself up on his elbows, Shouyou said, “okay, this is still really rough, okay? I’ll probably have to stop in a couple spots and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got it, I got it. Work in progress. Go on,” Atsumu encouraged him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou strummed his guitar, letting it flow out of him and fill the room. The verses were rough, but as he came to the pre chorus, he plucked the little rhythm that emerged when he had stood on the beach watching Kageyama swim back to the shore, back to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You breathed this flame into my pleading lungs,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the chorus began. He stumbled through it, his voice unsure and unpracticed. It helped that Atsumu’s head had slumped back down onto the bed as he quietly listened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Shouyou finished, Atsumu lifted himself all the way up. He settled with his legs criss-crossed. He praised the lyrics saying, “you’ve got a good theme and it travels well throughout the song. I can see why your band relies on you for songwriting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tapped a little rhythm on his knees, obviously weighing his next words. “Musically,” he said, “I think you’ll have to keep playing with it. The little run in the pre chorus could definitely be present in the second verse, once you’ve introduced it”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shifting so his upper body was straighter, he added, “you’re biggest issue is your breath support. It’s obvious you’re not much of a singer, even though your voice’s timbre overall is alright. You've been paying attention to how Akaashi sings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shook his head, and Atsumu clicked his tongue. “I can teach you the basics right now, but Akaashi’s a god. Don’t tell him I said that. Gotta keep a little friendly rivalry going, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing at Atsumu’s logic, Shouyou zipped his lips and threw away the key. With his silence assured, Atsumu jumped into an explanation about how Shouyou could sing better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he came to the end of his impromptu lesson, Atsumu sighed and examined Shouyou’s face. Kenma’s words came to Shouyou’s mind, and he really hoped they weren’t true. Atsumu’s gaze was heavy and lonely, his face a cross between the dreamy look from the night before and the kicked-puppy sadness that had preceded it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu scooted toward the window and opened it. As the air-conditioner clicked off, the summer air began to stick its fingers into the room. He leaned his head on the windowsill and turned his attention back to Shouyou.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got someone you love, huh?” he asked, his smile warm. “Your song is dripping with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou felt his cheeks warming up, but he managed to respond, “yeah. For a while now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s so fucking cute,” Atsumu said, with a bout of laughter that traveled from happy to sad with every second it continued. It broke Shouyou’s heart a little to listen to it. Atsumu looked out the window, breathing in the night air. “What’s it like? Being in love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprised, Shouyou blurted out, “you’ve never been in love?” It didn’t sound possible. Atsumu was insanely charismatic. Whether he wore his outside persona or the panicked version of himself that surfaced with his bandmates, no one could look away from him, Shouyou included. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think love is something enduring,” Atsumu explained, “I don’t think I’ve had the stamina. Crushes are fun and other stuff, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou hummed, pressing his fingers against the strings on the neck of the guitar as he thought about the concept of love. “I think you’re right; a good love does endure,” Shouyou mused as he felt the A-string dig into his calloused finger, “but don’t write yourself off just ‘cause you don’t think you’ve experienced it yet. Sometimes…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he trailed off, Atsumu turned away from the dark night and fixed his eyes on Shouyou. They were closer to brown in this lighting than in any other, quieter than the golden hue they took on under sunlight and stage lights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes,” Shouyou repeated, “the idea of love is planted long before we’re ready for it. If we’re lucky, we’ll have the chance to see it bloom. You’re really good at talking to people, Atsumu. That’s a good start, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I’ve really loved about this summer; I’ve been able to meet and talk to so many people, you included. We grow from those conversations, I think. We grow as people, and, if we’re lucky, the bonds form from those conversations can change into something deeper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, Atsumu said, “a conversation’s what’s got me into this mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got you thinking about love?” Shouyou asked, he looked out the window with Atsumu. The streetlights illuminated the empty streets. The trains had stopped running ages ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know the concept of a premonition of love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou shook his head. He set aside his guitar and leaned his head on the cool windowsill beside Atsumu, wanting to see things from his perspective.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like you meet someone and you’re struck by the idea that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> love them, if only the circumstances allowed it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s romantic,” Shouyou hummed. “And that damning conversation gave you that feeling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atsumu nodded, “yeah. It was… It was something else. He laughed, and all I could think about was hearing it again. The way he talked, the way he listened… It felt like anything could happen.” He made an annoyed scoff. “Is that stupid?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding me?” Shouyou said, shoving Atsumu’s shoulder playfully, “that’s amazing. Are you gonna talk to him again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing Atsumu said, “I’m pretty sure it’s not going to happen. It wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place, he said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou wrinkled his nose, “and you still wanna see him after that? Pretty harsh.” He watched Atsumu hit his forehead against the windowsill a few times in a staccato beat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can handle harsh. I just met him, but I think I could love him. Wouldn’t that be amazing? Exchange a few facts with a stranger in a bar and come out thinking they could be it.”</span>
</p><p> <span>“That would be amazing,” Shouyou decided. “But be careful, okay? I know we haven’t known each other long, but I’d hate to see your heart break.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Shouyou, I’ll be careful,” Atsumu promised, but Shouyou could tell he was already gone for whoever the stranger at the bar had been. What could have happened in one night?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t rush it,” Shouyou warned, “that’s my biggest advice. You can cultivate it; you can enjoy it, but don’t force something before it’s time. You’ve got a lot of love to give and plenty of life to give it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking about ready to cry, Atsumu lifted a heavy arm to ruffle Shouyou’s hair. “Why are you so wise, huh?” he joked, his words sliding sideways out his lopsided grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just telling you what I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Atsumu removed his hand from Shouyou’s hair, he asked, “do they know you love them, the person the song is about?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouyou Stretched and climbed off the bed, grabbing his guitar. He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “not yet, but I’m telling him soon.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah, okay that was a lot. If you liked this chapter, please consider dropping a kudos and a comment. Bokuaka are fine, so don't call me out for making them fight T_T </p><p>Who was Atsumu's stranger at the bar? What song was Atsumu humming in the greenroom?... hmmm.... maybe you'll find out someday.</p><p>Some meta:<br/>-Akaashi wanted to play the Liftaway because it was the first show they had played since the fight with Bokuto and finally clearing things up with Hinata<br/>-The Liftaway was the song Walk the Moon would open with before they came out with Talking Is Hard. They are the band that really inspired the dynamic of Of A Feather</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. I Didn't Do It Right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>On the night of August 10th, Shouyou called Kageyama. When he picked up, Kageyama said, “oh, so you’re alive?”<br/>Scoffing, Shouyou retorted, “I’m alive? You’re the one that keeps letting his phone die.”<br/>“I forget to bring the charger to the studio and- shit!” He heard something clatter and splat on the other line.<br/>“What was that?” Shouyou laughed.<br/>Over the line, Kageyama heaved a weary sigh, “my palette fell off my station.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh my god... here's the last full chapter of the fic. I'm just shocked. That I even made it this far. Thank you to everyone who has been reading this. Thank you Maeve and Danny for being my biggest supports all over social media. I don't think I would have made it this far without either of you. </p>
<p>Next time will be a short epilogue!</p>
<p>You can find me at <a href="https://pinchserveprince.tumblr.com">pinchserveprince</a> on Tumblr and <a href="https://twitter.com/pinchserve12">pinchserve12</a> on twitter!</p>
<p>Here are the playlists:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4QKC0u7bWlC4ZMoeQy5VYL?si=0NDjge7SS06QPaLa4IL0fg">Kagehina</a><br/><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1gBVMK6bop3WfbNRQXIAVG?si=oeWbPlJBTLKb1XGDYc7xMw">Of A Feather </a><br/><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2mky0fm1xyTdSCVMXJ32XV?si=Ho6i1LhBQZqo5ZO4241eFA">Fox Glove</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>From the wings of the stage on their final night in Kyoto, Shouyou watched Fox Glove slam their way through their last song. Aran picked out a sliding rhythm on his electric guitar before counting the rest of them in. Osamu and Atsumu took control. Beneath them, Suna’s bassline gave the sharp music its depth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/13NRQMlHrN1HqO7O1Pz25C?si=oCzl1bKHSnG88qtu9C3E6A">I just want to fill you up with such dread, let you suck it out, let you suck it out ‘till I’m dry and dead.</a>”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu’s voice was as pointed as the music leaping from his hands. Below them, the crowd jumped and whooped, enthralled by the mess on the stage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Caffeine cold, caffeine cold, now I can’t see shit.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though the music continued to flow, the seconds before the chorus felt like a pause. Then, Suna and Atsumu leaned in close to their microphones, their singing grating against each other, dissonant, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t breathe life into a monster and complain when he destroys it all again.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaning further out of the curtained sides of the stage, Shouyou watched Sakusa snapping photos from the closer side of the barricade. The security positioned along the small wall didn’t pay him any mind. The flashes of his camera were barely noticeable as the song’s lighting continued to pulse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t breathe life into a monster and complain when he destroys it all again,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Atsumu and Suna yelled with a sense of finality. The bass was the first to leave the song; Atsumu and Aran carried them into the fade out. Over Osamu’s drums, they battled. Barely audible over them, Suna cracked some joke into the microphone. Shocked, Atsumu yelled something back at him across the stage. They went back and forth until all four of them ended the song in stitches. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They set their instruments down, and Osamu held up his drumsticks like he was asking the crowd a question. A roar from the fans in the audience answered him, and he tossed his sticks into the crowd and waved goodbye. With a devilish smile, Atsumu turned out his pockets to show that really, he didn’t have any more picks on him. He blew a kiss into the crowd before meeting Shouyou in the wings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve never heard you guys perform that one,” Shouyou told Atsumu while he chugged a water bottle. In response, Atsumu groaned around the bottle, refusing to pry it off before it was empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Osamu and Suna walked up to them, mischief in their eyes. Suna was draped across Osamu’s back, and Shouyou didn’t know how Osamu could carry anyone after drumming his way through such a difficult set. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suna said, “Atsumu only likes doing that song when he’s pissed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprised, Atsumu crushed the water bottle against his face and started choking on the contents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t die, I wanna get paid,” Osamu warned, trying not to laugh while Atsumu continued to sputter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he finally cleared his lungs of water, Atsumu snapped back hoarsely, “I’m not pissed. I just needed to get out some…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, pointing an accusatory finger at Osamu and Suna, “you know what! I don’t need to prove myself to you guys. I’m too tired for it.” Everyone backstage burst into laughter, amazed that Atsumu refused to engage in a playful fight with Osamu. Atsumu stomped off and went through the exit door that led to the alley behind the venue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can you stand that shit,” Shouyou heard him yell at whoever he met out there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From behind, someone launched themself at Shouyou, almost knocking him over. Over his shoulder, he heard Bokuto say, “this might be the best concert I ever did sound for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You say that every night,” Oikawa complained from his seat beside Iwaizumi. Their pinkies were subtly linked in the space between them, and Oikawa practically glowed from the high of good performance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pouting, Bokuto said, “that’s what Akaashi says about every book he reads, and no one complains.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gods, you two are birds of a feather,” Kuroo snapped from his spot on another couch with Akaashi’s head in his lap. Everyone in the room groaned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa leaned forward to peer around Iwaizumi. “You seriously… did you really just make that pun? I’m telling your boyfriend, give me your phone right now.” He stuck out his hand for emphasis. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not my boyfriend,” Kuroo shot back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Opening and closing his hand impatiently, Oikawa said, “I don’t care, you still need to answer for your crimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hoisting up Shouyou and lifting him off the floor, Bokuto carried him over to the rest of the band. He dropped Shouyou on top of Akaashi’s stomach, making him laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning his attention to Kuroo, Bokuto said, “you need to define the relationship.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo rolled his eyes, “nobody wants to do long distance, Bo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa pumped both arms in the air, and with what was left of his voice, he sang, “Summer fling! Summer fling! Summer- Ow!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Iwaizumi smacked him in the back of the head, “you’re the last person I want to hear that from.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From on top of Akaashi, Shouyou told Kuroo, “you guys seem to really like each other, though. Don’t you think it’s worth a shot?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, kid, I get it,” Kuroo waved Shouyou’s words away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s only two years younger than you, Kuroo,” Akaashi said. He wrapped an arm around Shouyou and shoved him off his stomach. When Shouyou landed on a heap on the floor, Akaashi said, “sorry Shouyou, I was losing brain function from the lack of oxygen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou shrugged, showing Akaashi he didn’t particularly care. Refocusing on Kuroo, he said, “Bokuto’s right. Define the relationship!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo flashed his teeth at Shouyou, not a grin, but a leer, “I’ll define you outta the band.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Over my dead body,” Akaashi laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Placing his hands on Shouyou’s shoulders, Bokuto agreed, “yeah, you can’t kick my son out!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a voice mocking Akaashi’s words from earlier, Kuroo said, “he’s only two years younger than you, Bo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In fake shock, Bokuto said, “I’ve raised him since he was just a little baby chick with the fluffiest hair!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa huffed in frustration, “enough! With! The! Bird! Jokes!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After tear-down and checking out of their hotel, the bus ride back to Osaka was silent; all of the young men were exhausted from their short stint in Kyoto. Shouyou had fallen asleep as well, but he woke up with about an hour left of the drive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As quietly as possible, he dug out his earphones and listened to the recording he had made of his song. He didn’t have a title for it yet, but he was stitching it together. He hoped that the end result would be something he could be proud of. The show at The Alchemist was less than two weeks away, and the deadline scared him. Would he ever feel ready?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Opening up the notes app on his phone, he read over his lyrics for what felt like the thousandth time. A piece of him was embarrassed by the words he had written; they revealed glimpses of his unsteady youth. In the past, even as recently as earlier this summer, Shouyou had been afraid of being seen. It left too much room to be misunderstood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His ambition and his fear coexisted inside of him, burning hot and cold, but seeing the success Fox Glove was rocketing toward made Shouyou hungrier. If he could accomplish this small dream, Shouyou’s skills would sharpen the whole power of Of A Feather. A sense of freedom and fun fluttered in Shouyou’s veins when he thought about it. If he wanted to keep climbing this mountain, he needed to become more comfortable with being in the spotlight. Akaashi was right; the Alchemist show would be the perfect diving board. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pulled up to Fox Glove’s label’s office just as dawn was coloring the horizon. Beside Shouyou, Atsumu snorted and opened his eyes. They were bloodshot from the long night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He mumbled, “are we finally there? I have a date.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tilting his head, Shouyou asked, “you do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Atsumu confirmed, “with my bed.” He stretched and popped his neck. “When’s that show you’re gonna sing at?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“August 16th.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu sucked on a tooth, “shit. We’re still in Kyushu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Touched that Atsumu had wanted to see him perform, Shouyou said, “don’t worry about it, Atsumu.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking his head and grabbing his backpack, Atsumu said, “nah, I’ll see if I can make it back up here. Where are you playing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou told him about the Alchemist. Scratching his head, Atsumu thought for a moment. Then, he said, “that near the fancy side of town?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm. It’s still pretty close to the main train line,” Shouyou explained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu winked at him, “I’ll see what I can do, then.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They disembarked from the bus and separated the bands’ equipment. As they waited for the first train, Akaashi and Atsumu traded backhanded compliments. Leaning against Bokuto, Shouyou said, “I’ve only seen him like this with Oikawa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s scary, right?” Bokut agreed. They turned to watch Suna and Oikawa leaning over their phones. Every couple of seconds, they would flash their screens at each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rubbing his eyes, Kenma wandered over to Kuroo. Shouyou watched as they exchanged quiet words. They kept talking, and Shouyou thought it must have been the longest he had seen them talk to each other all summer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo laughed at something Kenma said. Which prompted Kenma to pull out his phone. He held it aloft, and Kuroo leaned his head on top of Kenma’s as they flashed matching peace signs. Not long after Kenma hit send, Kuroo’s phone started ringing. With a flick to the back of Kenma’s head, he wandered away to answer his phone call. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Kenma came to stand next to Bokuto and him, Shouyou asked, “why the selfie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After holding off a yawn, Kenma said, “Yaku texted me saying Kuroo hadn’t answered any of his texts this week. They’re so stupid. Had to send proof Kuroo was alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wary of Bokuto’s presence, Shouyou vaguely asked, “how do you feel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma shrugged not caring, “better about it. It’s still weird, but it makes Kuroo happy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Backstage last night, he was saying they’re not dating,” Shouyou whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh,” Kenma said, “of course he would have commitment issues. Disgusting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They turned to look at Kuroo leaning against the bus, smiling into the phone. When the two of them made eye contact again, Shouyou said, “we should make him buy us all breakfast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deciding he could enter the conversation now, Bokuto said, “if we convince Akaashi, it will be the whole band against him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With devilish grins and an oblivious Kuroo, Of A Feather bid Fox Glove and their roadies goodbye. Osamu and Suna jumped on Bokuto, wrapping him in a dual bone-crushing hug. With promises to go out drinking if he was ever in Kansai, they released him. Atsumu ruffled Shouyou’s hair and wished him luck on his song.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And that other thing,” Atsumu said with a wink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Shouyou smiled, “you, too.” When Atsumu’s cheeks turned pink, Shouyou laughed and said goodbye. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the night of August 10th, Shouyou called Kageyama. When he picked up, Kageyama said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, so you’re alive?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scoffing, Shouyou retorted, “I’m alive? You’re the one that keeps letting his phone die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I forget to bring the charger to the studio and- shit!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He heard something clatter and splat on the other line. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?” Shouyou laughed. He leaned back on the sheet he had spread out in the backyard to watch the stars, his guitar discarded on his right. In the past few days, the song had evolved and felt more alive than ever. When he had played the finished version for Kenma, he had been assured that it was excellent, something that could fit seamlessly into Of A Feather’s discography. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Over the line, Kageyama heaved a weary sigh, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>my palette fell off my station.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All that paint…” Shouyou whined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mostly talking to himself, Kageyama said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder if it will all come off the floor.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling brave, Shouyou asked, “are you working on my painting?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nu uh. I mean I am. But it’s not. You’re not walking away with this one.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” Shouyou warned. “As I recall, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>gave</span>
  </em>
  <span> me the last one, Kageyama.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“</span><em><span>As payment, dumbass.</span></em> <em><span>You haven’t earned another one yet.</span></em><span>”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Huffing, he said, “you’re the one who said you didn’t need me as a reference this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kageyama reaffirmed. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>How’s the song going?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rocketing himself into a sitting position, Shouyou told him, “it’s done! And I like it. I’m trying to keep it mostly under wraps, though. I want it to be a surprise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah? Won’t even play me a snippet?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kageyama teased.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, meanie-yama, are you going to send me a pic of what you’re working on?” he fired back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>... no.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shrugging, Shouyou decided, “then, I guess you’ve gotta wait for the show. You’re coming right? You’re not going to go into some artistic spiral and re-emerge from your cave long after I’m gone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>When have I ever done that? I said I’d be there! But the painting probably won’t be done yet,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kageyama confessed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Falling back down on the sheet, Shouyou said softly, “it’s not like you promised to have it done that soon. We still have a couple weeks before I leave.” As the words left his mouth, the reality of their impending parting hit Shouyou full force. Soon, he would be back in Sendai with hundreds of miles between him and Kageyama. The taut wire in his chest tugged harshly at the thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On his side of the line, Kageyama was quiet, too. In the stillness, Shouyou thought he heard the whisper of a brush against canvas, but it could have just been the wind. He closed his eyes and imagined sitting in the art club room watching Kageyama repaint the skyline of Kobe harbor. The memory tasted sweeter on his tongue. The calm of the past and the present felt a lot like love.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Did you fall asleep outside, dumbass?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Softly, Shouyou said, “no, I was just thinking about the spring you redid the Kobe harbor piece.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Was that when you filled three notebooks with lyrics in a span of, what? Three weeks?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m surprised you remember that,” Shouyou laughed, “what else was I supposed to do with my time? You didn’t want to do anything else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t think I could have done anything else considering…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, right! You’re right,” Shouyou stopped him. They were quiet again for several moments. In the space of the pause, Shouyou missed Kageyama with such intensity, he wondered how he had survived the past five years without him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hinata,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kageyama said, sounding unsteady.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fine if you don’t remember, but I was wondering…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he trailed off, but Shouyou didn’t try to speak. After a small pause, he continued, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I was wondering about what you wrote that night.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, that. Yes, Shouyou remembered exactly what he had written. It was etched into his brain, into every notebook he used for lyrics. The words didn’t fit the band’s sound, but he had never let it go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I remember. I-I can tell you, but I have one condition,” Shouyou said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>A condition?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he swallowed, “we have to say goodnight right after. And I’ll talk to you again at the Alchemist.” Shouyou knew if he said these words to Kageyama, they would be diving blinding into the unknown. He wasn’t sure if he could hold himself back from confessing, and he definitely didn’t want to do that over the phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His curiosity winning out, Kageyama said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Alright. I agree to your terms.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s angsty teenage bullshit, alright?” Shouyou said, a blush Kageyama couldn’t see creeping up the back of his neck. When Kageyama hummed in ascent, Shouyou recited the lines, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>the muscles in my throat tighten around the breath I hold like a pause before a song. But no sound comes out, no relief in the exhale. I’ve never known the language to love you in. The cords in my throat tighten like the groaning strings of a new guitar. My fingertips bleed as I stretch for a new way to show my love for you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shivering despite the balmy night, Shouyou quickly said, “I told you, Kageyama, teenage angst bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hinata, I-” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kageyama caught himself, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>goodnight.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It sounded deeper than that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Kageyama. I’ll see you at the show.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shouyou, stop pacing! You’re driving me crazy,” Oikawa screamed from his seat across from Bokuto in the tatami room. As soon as the teal eyeliner Bokuto held was lifted off his eyelids, he threw his cushion at Shouyou. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t his fault that he was nervous about the show. His stomach was doing gymnastics inside of him. Despite the stomach medicine Bokuto had given him half an hour ago, he still felt nauseated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop picking on him,” Bokuto said, “ or else I’ll ‘forget’ to set your makeup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have too much pride in your work to let me melt,” Oikawa countered, presenting his face to Bokuto once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ignoring him, Bokuto asked Shouyou, “do you want anything tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stopping his circuit, Shouyou said, “I don’t know…” Drumming the cajón was easier than his full kit. His stomach gave another lurch, and sweat beaded along his forehead. Groaning, he told Bokuto, “aren’t I just going to sweat it off like usual?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spraying Oikawa’s face with the setting spray, Bokuto said, “you know, I think you need some battle armor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Shouyou,” Oikawa agreed, “I think the red eyeliner would be a good touch, even if it does end up running.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It won’t run,” Bokuto puffed out his chest, “we’ll set it with the good stuff!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa vacated his spot. He grabbed Shouyou by his shoulders and steered him to sit across from Bokuto. From his makeup bag, he pulled out a brand new pot of red gel eyeliner. “Went to go shopping with Kenma the other day. It’ll set better than the liquid,” Bokuto explained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oikawa still had his hands on Shouyou’s shoulders. He gave him a hard squeeze. When he released him, he asked Shouyou, “you gonna be alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a sigh, Shouyou said, “I better be. I’ll just take more medicine before we get on the train.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a pretty small venue; it’ll be okay,” Oikawa assured him. “Do you want me to do your hair?” he offered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou almost shook his head, but he caught himself before he could ruin Bokuto’s work in progress on his eyelids. “Nah, I like it like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For good measure, Oikawa ruffled Shouyou’s hair before leaving to look at himself in the bathroom mirror.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, keep your eyes closed while I hit you with the setting spray,” Bokuto warned him when he lifted the eyeliner brush off Shouyou’s eyelids. The spray’s atom-sized droplets misted his face. When he opened his eyes, Bokuto had a small compact mirror opened and was waiting for Shouyou’s approval. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t see the whole of his reflection, but his eyes were sharp and demanded attention. The lines of red were thin enough to keep from clashing with his orange hair, but they brought out extra light in his shining brown eyes. He liked who he saw in the mirror; his stomach finally quieted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a nod from Shouyou, Bokuto snapped the compact closed. “You’re gonna do great,” he said, “Akaashi’s really proud of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rubbing the back of his neck, Shouyou softly said, “he told me that you stuck up for me. So, thanks for believing in me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto made a pained noise and said with a grin, “I’d smoosh your hair right now, but it’d probably puff up like this-” he expanded his hands out in front of him like a cloud. The very last vestiges of Shouyou’s anxieties bled out of him with every laugh they shared.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of A Feather marched through the open door of the Alchemist ninety minutes before their set, buoyed by the gorgeous sunset they were leaving behind. The bar’s tables had been pushed against the bookshelves along the walls to make room for about 25 folding chairs. Always a permanent fixture, the couches in the corner sat ready for patrons looking to lounge. The regular lights of the bar were flicked on in favor of the fairy lights that had grabbed Kageyama’s wonderment when they had come for Shouyou’s birthday. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Takeda came out from behind the bar, a wide, warm smile plastered on his face. He fixed his eyes on Kenma and said,“welcome back! How was Kyoto?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a fond, small smile of his own, Kenma said, “it was a great experience. It’s never a dull moment with Fox Glove.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Needling Kenma, Takeda told him, “you’ll have to convince them to come out here sometime. They’re a local band after all!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jumping out from behind Kenma, Shouyou said, “Atsumu’s coming to watch tonight!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s their lead singer,” Kuroo added, setting down his guitar case by the two sets of microphones and microphone stands across from the cluster of folding chairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Takeda’s eyes sparkled with determination, “I guess I’ll have to talk to him.” He turned to Shouyou and winked, “you’ll point him out to me, won’t you, Hinata?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi grabbed Takeda’s attention and asked, “I’m sorry, can I trouble you for a cup of tea?” They walked towards the bar together as Takeda listed the different types of tea he had on hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Free from the conversation, Shouyou joined Bokuto and Kuroo as they did their small set up. They had managed to bully Oikawa into bringing his keyboard with them, but he made Bokuto “earn his keep” by forcing him to set it up for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou had one hand around the handle of his guitar case and his other hand stuck in the hole of the cajón they had managed to nab from Osamu before Fox Glove had hopped in their bus to Kyushu the week before. It was more than he was used to carrying, but he had managed to make it to the bar without any incident. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After Akaashi drank his tea, and Oikawa drank a gin &amp; tonic, the band warmed up and went over their setlist. Playfully, they made their way through “The Liftaway,” enjoying the dreaminess of the acoustic sound. When they finished their round of giggles that always seems to follow the end of the song, Akaashi asked Shouyou if he wanted to practice his song before the bar opened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waving him away, Shouyou said, “no thanks; I’ve got it as good as it’s getting by now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leering at Akaashi, Kuroo said, “haha, guess you gotta wait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thumping out some energy on the cajón, Shouyou gasped at Akaashi, “oh, I see. You just wanted to ruin the surprise!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi raised his arms in defeat and took his empty tea cup up to the bar. As soon as he was back in his seat, Kenma approached the group. Tonight, he hair was completely down, the blonde tips of his long hair catching the light every time he moved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mumbling, he said, “I’ve been trying to think of a way to bring it up…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perking up, Shouyou wiggled in his seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oya?” He heard Akaashi say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oya Oya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oya Oya Oya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes and his face bright red, Kenma spat out, “I’ve been putting together a plan to get us signed with a label. With Kita’s help…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The band let out an unsettlingly harmonized and well timed, “What?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Recovering the fastest, Kuroo asked, “you think we’re ready for that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma nodded, “it’s not like it’s going to happen overnight. I’ve been thinking we needed more concrete direction, and since I’m the manager, aren’t I the perfect person to plan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Springing up from his seat, Shouyou hopped around the band’s equipment to wrap Kenma in a tight hug. “All that secrecy was for us?! You’re a genius, Kenma!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So all that sneaking around?” Oikawa asked from behind his keys.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was meeting with some of Kita’s connections. Their specific label’s sound isn’t what we’re going for, but I was able to learn a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto placed a thoughtful hand on his chin and thought aloud, “that’s why you were insistent on us getting quality pictures from Sakusa!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah…” he turned his focus back to Shouyou, “are you, going to let me go anytime soon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo stood up from his seat and came to stand next to them. As soon as Shouyou let him go, Kuroo pulled Kenma into a hug. He mumbled something into Kenma’s hair that Shouyou couldn’t hear. At first, Kenma’s bright eyes widened with shock. Then, they narrowed as they began to prickle with tears. He dug his face into Kuroo’s chest, shaking a little as they clung to each other. When they parted, Kenma ducked his head and walked out of the bar, Kuroo walking after them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ve been worrying me all summer,” Akaashi said, appearing beside Shouyou. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just some growing pains,” Shouyou mused, happy that whatever had been straining Kuroo and Kenma was loosening its hold on their friendship.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the bar opened, Takeda clicked off the harshest of the lights. The fairy lights flicked on, giving the space the warm glow that Shouyou remembered from his birthday. The patrons that would be Of A Feather’s audience for the evening began to trickle in. Takeda greeted most of them by name as they ordered their drinks and took their seats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fifteen minutes before the start of their set, Yaku rolled through the door. Instead of greeting Kuroo with a hug or a gentle touch, he launched a kick into the back of his legs, sending him to the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s for dodging my calls,” he spat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking up at Yaku, Kuroo said, “I can’t believe you just did that in front of all these people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crossing his arms, he responded, “they should know you ghosted me. They’ll all be on my side.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Getting up from the floor, Kuroo said sheepishly, “I’m sorry. I was thinking about stuff, and I was busy with the shows in Kyoto.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Yaku said, “whatever, I forgive you. I got that cute selfie out of the ordeal.” He pulled out his phone and showed off his lockscreen, “I love how you both look half dead, look!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Delete that!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope,” Yaku told him, holding out the word. “And if you try to delete it, I’ll just make Kenma send it to me again.” He turned away to take a seat next to Kenma on the couch. Shouyou watched them whisper into each other’s ears and laugh at Kuroo’s expense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With five minutes to go, Kageyama swept in, his broad body seeming to take up what little room was left in the crowded bar. He waved at Shouyou when their eyes met, but chose to sit down on the other side of Yaku without saying anything. Even though he wanted to talk to Kageyama, Shouyou was grateful for the space. His nerves had come back and set his hands shaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Noticing the state of him, Akaashi reached a hand out to him. Shouyou took his hand, and Akaashi gave it a firm squeeze. “Let’s have fun tonight,” he said, flashing Shouyou a grin. Nodding, Akaashi let go of his hand. He took his mic out of its stand and handed it to Kuroo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking into the mic, Kuroo addressed the little crowd, “good evening! I think I recognize some faces from the jam session we came to in June, yeah?” He paused as Yaku said something loud enough for Kuroo to hear. Catching him, Kuroo said, “hey, you don’t count, you awful groupie!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crowd laughed along with the band. As their laughter died out, the door of the bar slammed opened, revealing Atsumu and Sakusa. Their chests heaved as if they had sprinted from the train. Above his mask, Sakusa’s eyes narrowed. He dragged Atsumu to the corner where the couches sat, tossing him at Kenma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Refocusing, Kuroo said, “well, we’re Of A Feather, visiting from Sendai. It’s been a nice summer spending time here in Kansai. This set is a bit of a treat for us as well. We haven’t played a show this small in a while. It’s cozy, ain’t it?” As Kuroo paused, Oikawa’s fingers danced on his keys. “Let’s have some fun tonight!” As soon as he passed the mic back to Akaashi, he began strumming his guitar along with Oikawa’s music. Taking over the pacing, Shouyou thumped at the cajón under him. Akaashi had Shouyou’s guitar around his shoulder, plucking out notes amidst the other blending sounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/2m7zt7ZD5NchfZVSRmTSyE?si=K5ebo004TYWtTDDWhdRE9w">Oh what did I say? You’re all shook up. Lost in the summer, man, we’re burning up</a>.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo and Akaashi switched roles in the song, with Kuroo plucking out a complicated run as Akaashi held down the melody. The song burned bright with the warmth of the sun, and Shouyou thought he could feel the waves of the shoreline dancing across the tops of his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The tide curves off your body, oh, you’ll stay with me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>About halfway through their set, Kuroo took Akaashi’s mic again, “Are we all having fun? ‘Cause I know I am. We’re going to switch gears a bit here and have our Shouyou take over for a song. We hope y’all will enjoy it!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou’s heart threatened to plop out of his chest and run away without him as he swapped instruments with Akaashi. They stepped around each other, and he faced the microphone stand, which was even with his forehead. Shaking his head, he readjusted the stand. When Kuroo handed him back the mic, he shakily said into it, “I’m in a band with giants.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The audience gave him a good-natured laugh in return for the jab at himself. He fished a pick out of his back pocket and toyed with his guitar before taking a steadying inhale. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi! I’m Hinata Shouyou, and usually, I’m the drummer. I’m really honored to be playing this song for the first time in front of an audience, so thanks ahead of time for listening.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes cut to Kageyama on the couches. Kageyama’s full attention was fixed on him. He felt safe under the familiar gaze, even as it picked him apart and put him back together for the thousandth time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ignoring how his hands still shook, Shouyou began to strum his guitar. When he closed his eyes, he could feel sunlight coming in through the art club’s windows. The phantom whispers and rustling of paper and canvas played in his ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He parted his lips and sang, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I found a titan on a lonely mountain, and the gifts he gave opened doors to new worlds, opened windows long thought closed, but I’m crawling through.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He plucked out the run Atsumu had praised in his hotel room before continuing, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have been yours since the day you breathed this flame into my pleading lungs. And I have pursued this burning, this cleansing, this remaking.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Opening his eyes for the second verse, he looked toward Atsumu, who smiled at him from his perch on the arm of Kenma’s couch. Traveling down the line, Shouyou found Kageyanma. His heart gave a fantastic leap; Kageyama watched him as he had on the mountain top, the wonder and magic painted across his features. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I met a foal, unsteady on its leg, surprised every time it could stand, like you with your arms outstretched, balancing for the next step, and the next, and the next, and the next one after that.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Digging deep from his diaphragm, he came around again to the chorus, holding Kageyama’s stare, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You breathed this flame into my pleading lungs, and I have chased this burning, this cleansing, this remaking. I want to weave into the fabric of eternity that you are mine. I have been yours since the day you breathed this flame into my pleading lungs. Let me breathe it back into you, everyday, every hour, every moment.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He never wanted the song to end; he couldn’t remember how to stop playing his guitar. Luckily, his muscle memory took over and saw him through the final chords. The following silence lasted a half of a moment before the audience enthusiastic claps greet him. Touched, he whispered a quiet thank you into the microphone. In a daze, he swapped instruments with Akaashi once more and collapsed onto the cajón. The rest of the set flowed past him, a current he moved with until he reached the end. </span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>After Kuroo’s parting words to the crowd, Of A Feather broke down their minimal equipment. Bokuto appeared to help Takeda pack the sound equipment away into a small storage room off the side of the bar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An arm around Shouyou brought him out of the clouds and back into his body. “You did very well. Your singing’s improved a lot this summer,” Akaashi told him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Relief dumped into Shouyou’s bloodstream. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as Akaashi continued to praise him, “I bet that would sound really good with Oikawa’s keys, if you ever wanted to make it a song for the band.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou laughed, filled to the brim with so much happiness at being recognized by Akaashi, “I guess we’ll see when we get back to Sendai.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the rest of the band went up to the bar to heckle Takeda for drinks, Shouyou wandered over to the crowded couches. He gave a polite greeting to Sakusa, who cooly returned it. Even though he was sitting on an armchair, his posture was perfect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kageyama, he-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu launched himself into Shouyou’s arms before he could finish talking, “That was so good! Your breath support has been revolutionized, you’re welcome! Sorry we were late, Omi was being-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t spread lies, you hateful moron. We were nearly late because you were too stupid to book the bullet train into Shin-Kobe instead of Shin-Osaka.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Releasing Shouyou, Atsumu snapped back, “hey, that’s not nice talk from someone who didn’t have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>buy </span>
  </em>
  <span>their own ticket.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As I recall,” Sakusa said, his voice steady and condescending, “you’re the one who begged me to come since Osamu didn’t feel well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu looked like he was going to keep yelling at Sakusa, so Shouyou spoke up to diffuse the tension, “thank you both so much for coming! I know you have another show tomorrow, so you probably wanted to rest tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrapping Shouyou into another hug, Atsumu said, “nah, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sakusa paid close attention to the way Atsumu’s arms fit around Shouyou’s shoulders. After a moment, he stood up and said, “I’m going out for a smoke.” As he headed for the door, Atsumu let go of Shouyou and stalked after him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s the guy with the curly hair and bad attitude?” Kageyama asked from the couch. Right, Kageyama, near him for the first time in nearly a month. Shouyou smiled down at Kageyama, his heart stuttering from how dark his eyes were in the dim lighting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou shrugged and explained, “he was the photographer for Fox Glove at the Kyoto shows. I’m not sure why he’s hanging around Atsumu, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama chuckled. Standing up he said, “they argued through the whole set. I thought Yaku was going to set them on fire, but they shut up when you started singing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, um,” Kageyama said, leading Shouyou to the bar and the rest of the band, “congrats on your first performance. The song came out great.” Instantly, Shouyou’s cheeks caught on fire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since the end of the set, people had begun to mill about, standing together in huddles or draped across the folding chairs. The bar quickly went from cozy to suffocating, and Shouyou placed a firm hand on Kageyama’s arm, tugging him toward the door. “Can we go to the roof, instead?” he asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a nod from Kageyama, Shouyou led them outside of the bar. By the door to the stairwell, Sakusa and Atsumu leaned against the wall. Sakusa seemed like he was mid tirade as they approached, “I don’t know why you’re still pouting about-” he stopped when he saw Shouyou and Kageyama. Taking a drag of his cigarette, he kicked Atsumu’s leg. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu snapped his head up and asked in a teasing tone, “where are you two off to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s more of the bar on the roof!” Shouyou told him. “It’s really nice up there. You should come up when you’re done.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without waiting for Atsumu to respond, Shouyou and Kageyama stomped up the stairs. When he pushed open the door to the roof, he was shocked by how many people were already scattered throughout the bar. He stepped through the door and surveyed the area. In the far corner on the left of the door, one of the raised decks was devoid of people. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He decided he would hide over there with Kageyama, but first, “buy me a glass plum wine?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Kageyama said, “one glass. I don’t want a repeat of your birthday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou blew a childish raspberry at Kageyama as they stepped up to the bar to order, “you had fun that night, too, don’t pretend like you didn’t”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gruff, Kageyama mumbled, “I always have fun with you, dumbass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Shouyou could say something stupid, Kageyama ordered Shouyou’s plum wine and a soda for himself. On the way to claim their perch, Shouyou wondered if Kageyama had come here this evening with the same intent as him: to name the unnameable, to bridge the gap they couldn’t seem to cross.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the deck, a large, vacant jacuzzi bubbled. It’s presence at a bar felt out of place. Shouyou pointed at it and asked, “did you know this thing was up here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Takeda says he has it available during the summer, since there’s a shower down on the dorm’s landing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, this is already the world’s oddest bar, what’s a jacuzzi,” Shouyou decided, shrugging. He tapped his glass against Kageyama’s soda and took a large sip. As the sweetness hit his tongue, he felt himself relax a little more. He was ready to have this conversation. He just didn’t know where to begin. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. The beginning seemed over done; would beginning the story with tonight lack proper context? The song seemed the better place to start, regardless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So um, thanks for coming tonight. I didn’t say it earlier,” Shouyou said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said I would come,” Kageyama replied, his voice low and gentle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know I know,” Shouyou said, losing his grip on himself. “It’s still nice. To see you. To get to see you, um.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou lost his nerve and looked away from Kageyama to scan the rest of the bar. Atsumu popped out of the door and spun around in a circle. As he finished his spin, he caught Shouyou. Uh-oh. Some lightbulb seemed to go off in Atsumu’s head. He pointed at Kageyama’s back. When Shouyou didn’t respond, he creeped over to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Atsumu reached them, Sakusa slid out of the door into the bar. He quickly locked in on Atsumu and casted his eyes to the heavens. Too late to actually stop him from interrupting, he casually walked over to the three of them. Atsumu came around Kageyama’s right side and nudged Shouyou with a hip check, saying, “hey are the guy from-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou heard his shoe squeak on the wet wood before he realized he was falling. Shutting his eyes tight, he braced himself for the impact of the water, but it never came. Instead, he felt a sharp jerk at the front of his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cracking an eye open, he saw that Kageyama had caught him with the lightning speed he had shown again and again. There they were stuck again: a magician and his levitating assistant. They locked eyes; Kageyama’s black hair matching the dark sky once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Atsumu clapped Kageyama hard on the back, breaking the spell. The hit shocked Kageyama, making him lose his grip on Shouyou. Within a moment, Shouyou splashed into the jacuzzi’s warm water. The jets roared in his ears until he resurfaced, sputtering and spitting out the chlorine water. Kageyama, Atsumu, and Sakusa looked down at him as he climbed out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood before them, dripping wet and angry that his confession had been interrupted. Sure, it had not been going well, but he had thought he could power through it. Before Shouyou could tear into Atsumu, Sakusa smacked him on the back of the head in Shouyou stead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ve ever met a man as careless and stupid as you,” he spat out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ignoring him, Atsumu looked contrite as he said, “sorry Shouyou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to drop you like that,” Kageyama mumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou told Kageyama, “it’s not your fault.” Turning to Atsumu, he said, “you’re forgiven, if only so I can go to my grave without regrets.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night air was warm enough that Shouyou didn’t shiver, but the way his clothes clung to his body disgusted him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrapping an arm around him, Kageyama said, “let’s go dry you off.” Looking forward to being away from Atsumu and his antics, Shouyou went down the stairs with Kageyama to the bathroom on the same landing as the dorm. As soon as they closed the door, Shouyou began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Kageyama knelt down to look in the cabinets under the sink and pulled out a hair dryer and a body towel. Cautiously, Kageyama brought the towel to his face and sniffed it. Passing the test he handed the towel to Shouyou.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After he plugged in the hairdryer, Shouyou skeptically asked, “how well do you think that thing can dry my clothes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better than the air,” Kageyama figured. He pointed the hairdryer at Shouyou’s face and turned it on. The hot air was pleasant against his skin; the air of the bathroom was much cooler than the air had been outside, and Shouyou had started to shiver. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hitting Kageyama’s hand to get him to turn off the hair dryer, Shouyou continued to strip off his shirt and undershirt. Happy to have the towel, he shucked off his clammy pants and soaked boxers. Once he had the towel secured around his waist, he hopped up on the sink’s counter to sit down. He held out his hand for the hair dryer and started to get to work on drying his boxers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama said something that Shouyou couldn’t catch over the whir of the hairdryer. Clicking it off, Shouyou asked, “what was that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you dry your hair first?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scoffing, Shouyou told him, “it’s summer, Kageyama. I’m more concerned about being able to wear my pants tonight.” He clicked the hairdryer back on. On its highest setting, Shouyou discovered the hairdryer packed quite the punch. It wasn’t too long before his boxers were sufficiently dry. The harder challenge would be his dark pants, much larger and thicker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Shouyou could turn the hairdryer back on, Kageyama said, “is your scar still numb?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The non-sequitur made Shouyou raise his head from his lap. Kageyama’s face was sour, the eyebrows turned down, and his mouth was more bitter than a pout. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou brought a hand up to his collarbone, but put it back on his lap before he made contact. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about that in a while. Do you want to find out?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama’s eyes jumped from Shouyou’s eyes to the scar back to his eyes and finally came to rest on the scar. Shouyou wanted to squirm away, but he also wanted Kageyama to touch him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The color’s faded a lot,” Kageyama said, the tips of his fingers reaching out to brush at Shouyou’s collarbone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou closed his eyes and held his breath. Unlike that first summer, Shouyou felt the moment Kageyama’s warm fingertips touched the raised, smooth skin of his scar, no longer a hypothetical.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It tickles,” he said breathlessly. He opened his eyes. The sad look still painted Kageyama’s face. Grabbing Kageyama’s wrist, Shouyou asked, “what’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Staring intently at the scar, Kageyama said, “I’ve hurt you. So many times.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kageyama-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you,” the regret in Kageyama’s voice palpable. “You never deserved any of it.” He tried to pull his hand away, but Shouyou held tight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kageyama, listen to me,” Shouyou commanded, his voice steady only because of how much he believed his own words. “We were just kids. You were in pain, but you never took that out on me. It was a messed up situation to be in. Of course we got hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let go of Kageyama’s arm in favor of cupping his chin and forcing their eyes to meet. Kageyama’s face was beginning to crumble, but Shouyou continued. “We got hurt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>got hurt, but look,” Shouyou angled his body back to show off the healed, the faded scar, “I’m okay now. Aren’t you, too?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thick tears fell from Kageyama’s eyes, no longer sharp but soft and red around the edges. Shouyou pulled him into his arms, pressing Kageyama into the crook of his neck. As one of Kageyama’s hands cupped the back of his head to deepen the embrace, Shouyou found himself crying, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me you’re okay,” Shouyou begged. He needed to hear those words after years of worrying. He had never been meant to save Kageyama. They had become adults on their own, walking down paths they had never imagined for themselves. Still, those paths had led them here: back to each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking in Shouyou’s arms, Kageyama sobbed, “I’m okay. I’m okay.” He repeated the words a few more times, and Shouyou’s tears started anew. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At his neck, Kageyama tried to get his breathing under control. They shook in each other’s arms for a few more minutes before Kageyama was able to pull himself upright. The hand that had cradled Shouyou’s head came to rest on his face instead. Kageyama’s thumb brushed away what remained of Shouyou’s tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never-” Kageyama’s body gave a violent shudder before he could continue “-I never stopped.” He shook his head, trying to clear it, “I always-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me, too,”Shouyou laughed, his own body still shaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shockingly, Kageyama smiled. It was a watery, trembling waning moon across his face, but Shouyou thought it was lovely. He reached forward to place a hand right beside it, worrying the corner of it with his thumb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hand on Shouyou’s face traveled down until Kageyama’s thumb slid across Shouyou’s lips. This time, when Shouyou leaned into Kageyama’s space, he wasn’t forced back to the ground. Instead, Kageyama pulled him right into the sky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been five years since Shouyou had felt Kageyama’s lips against his own. Their panicked adolescence burned away, and in its place, the surety of their connection glowed like a lighthouse. They were guided out of the storm and into each other’s warmth. Every movement conveyed what they had never been able to say before this moment: that they loved each other; that they were here for each other; that they, more than anyone else in the world, understood each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tremor passed through Kageyama and into Shouyou as their bodies continued to recover from their tears. Kageyama pulled away from Shouyou to press kisses into the corners of his lips. He moved to Shouyou’s cheeks; delicate touches to the edges of his eyes where tears were still threatening to overflow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kiss me again,” Shouyou demanded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kageyama came back to his lips, spreading his warmth over Shouyou.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he pulled away a second time, Shouyou simply whispered, “again.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This title for this chapter comes from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/5Yb82JrDj09gQHQtjWgYYo?si=SDVtLCEJTkq0fTbqFs-0-w"> Pink in the Night by Mitski</a><br/>"And I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right. Can I try again? and again and again."</p>
<p>If you enjoyed this chapter please kudos and/or comment. It really makes my day &lt;3 </p>
<p>Thank you for reading!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Epilogue: Be Ready For You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>October in Osaka would never compare to the frigid wind that used to cut up Tobio’s face in Miyagi. Some years, it had snowed as early as late October, making Tobio forget about the very existence of spring and summer. He had lived in a world that shifted from cold to colder.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm really emotional right now about finishing this. I always told myself I wasn't capable of seeing something through to the end, that I would always run away before completing anything. But at least this once, I'm proud of myself. I obviously didn't go on this journey alone. Ellie and Aspen kept this fire burning with their enthusiasm. My poor mother had to listen to me talk about this fic for the past six months every time we talked on the phone. Danny and Maeve's love of this fic gave me the final push I needed to make it here. Thank you to everyone who has kudos, bookmarked, and commented. These sparks of love mean the world to me.</p>
<p>The art at the end of this chapter was done by <a href="https://kingstrawberrymilk.tumblr.com/post/640994316041519104/these-are-my-final-pieces-that-go-with">Tai</a>, so please go shower the post in love!</p>
<p>This chapter's title comes from <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/5sRxvFV5yarkn7FBr7YkRu?si=tuXCsO54Q-erEFhPSnEjSw">Only Love by Mumford and Sons</a></p>
<p>"And I rage and I rage, but perhaps, I will come of age, and be ready for you."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>October in Osaka would never compare to the frigid wind that used to cut up Tobio’s face in Miyagi. Some years, it had snowed as early as late October, making Tobio forget about the very existence of spring and summer. He had lived in a world that shifted from cold to colder.</p>
<p> Instead of being dropped straight into an unforgiving autumn, Osaka’s temperatures slid down a steady slope that eased him into the coming winter. It rarely snowed this far south, and even on the coldest of days, the wind would caress his cheek and remind him that summer would someday return to him. When the wheel of the year turned, people would crowd into the trains to find beaches to lay across. They would dive into waters too deep and linger in the sunlight so long, their skin would be forever changed. </p>
<p>Tobio’s life had been defined by punishing, lonely winters and intoxicating summers spent clinging to the incandescence of Hinata Shouyou. The winter of Kageyama’s fifteenth year had stretched long past the blooming of the cherry blossoms. He had spent his time moving from school to home to temple to home in a cycle that had left him unaware of the melting snow and the rising mercury in the temperature gauge on his front porch. </p>
<p>Only four words, spoken unsure and haltingly had whispered the arrival of spring, <em> I think it’s lonely. </em> Those words had painted Tobio’s world in brighter colors. No longer was his life ruled by whites, grays, and tepid shades of blue. The warmest hues expanded beyond just the splash of red he saw every evening as he was led to attempts at redemption. With Hinata in his life, Tobio  made room on his palette for the warm brown of his eyes;  ever-shifting oranges of Hinata’s hair that drove him insane with his inability to blend the strands perfectly;  and dusty pinks he only ever caught out of the corner of his eyes. </p>
<p>In October, people pull out their thicker coats and jackets. Back in his hometown, people had walked the streets in gray peacoats, navy, puffy jackets, and black windbreakers that kept the cold and strangers at bay. On his way to Shin-Osaka station, Tobio noticed not for the first time how this city, ever-loud, ever-odd, exploded into technicolor as the trees displayed their enviable, vibrant reds and yellows. The older women giggling with their friends like school girls were decked out loud prints, mixing colors and designs that would clash on any other street. </p>
<p>Tobio walked down to the subway line, watching a mother in a bright red scarf against her shiny black jacket talking to her toddler with a rainbow of clips holding her flyaway hairs down. After he tapped into the station and grabbed a seat on the train, the heat of the car reminded him of the unbearable, sticky heat of the sand from only months ago.</p>
<p><em> You saw how alone I was </em>, Tobio had said after laying bare the complicated knot of his frozen youth. He hadn’t told Hinata how the ghost of their first kiss had simultaneously haunted him and sustained him. It had carried him out of yet another long winter, through a year of scraping through what part time jobs he had been able to find just for the faint hope of leaving behind the ice and biting wind of his parents’ house. He had tucked it into his palms when he had moved to Sendai, the 500 yen in his pocket too dear to him to spend on a new pair of gloves. Despite the warmth in the summer sun of the beach, Hinata’s hand had been cold where it had clung to Tobio’s arm. He couldn’t bring himself to say it then, but maybe someday, he could tell Hinata. </p>
<p>As the subway hit Osaka Station in Umeda, a cluster of middle school girls in their dark navy flowed into his train car like a river or the night sky; they stayed for one stop, their journey over nearly as soon as it had begun. The line would end at Shin-Osaka, and hopefully, the longing in his chest would stop, too. </p>
<p>As the navy uniforms were carried out of sight, Tobio closed his eyes and saw the night sky dappled with stars and lingering purples. He had played this memory often since Of A Feather had journeyed to Kyoto and back. During those days and weeks when Hinata had only existed as a firecracker voice on the phone, he had clung to the explosion of a sunset from the mountaintop they had raced to. When Tobio had finally sat down to paint the scene, he had found that there was barely enough room on his palette for all of the colors he had catalogued.</p>
<p>Since Hinata had left at the close of August, Tobio had replayed the moment Hinata had forced him to turn to face the approaching night. As the subway car’s speakers announced the final stop, he could feel Hinata’s hand on his shoulder; he could hear the whispered question close to his ear, <em> Do you know the name of that shade of blue? </em> </p>
<p>The names Tobio’s mind had provided would have only really made sense to himself: his first cell phone; the sky above Mt. Roko, as viewed from the roof of The Alchemist, with the city lights polluting the hue; the gloves Hinata had loaned him as they went together to pray for Tobio’s future. Finally, his mind had landed, <em> cobalt, don’t you think? </em></p>
<p>With a <em> thud </em> that could barely be heard over the rustling of clothing, shopping bags, and suitcases, the doors of the subway opened at Shin-Osaka. Tobio allowed himself to be carried out of the train and through the subway line’s turnstiles. A massive clock hung above the list of incoming bullet trains; Hinata would be arriving in 15 minutes. </p>
<p>Unlike he had promised, the painting had not been finished before Of A Feather crowded into their rented vans on August 31st. For once, Hinata had given no taunts or complaints. They had spent the last days of summer carving out pockets of Osaka and Kobe for themselves. Some nights, they had gone back to the house together and watched the stars turn in the backyard whispering five years of history into the dark. Tobio wouldn’t trade those hours for the world. </p>
<p>The trade-off with taking longer with the painting was that a spot had come open at a gallery in Osaka owned by one of Ukai’s friends. He had come to see the in progress painting in person and had offered Tobio the chance to display it. The gallery was in Umeda, closer to the center of the neighborhood than Kitaichi was. Precise and careful, Tobio had slowly crafted the layers of the painting. It was saturated in all things Hinata: honeyed amber eyes in the sunlight; fiery orange embers burning and rising into the sky; pinks like his embarrassed cheeks and kiss-bitten lips. </p>
<p>In less than an hour, Hinata would be seeing this painting for the first time. Tobio leaned against a pillar, watching the clock inch closer and closer to the quarter hour. With every tick of the second hand, Tobio thought he could feel his heart beat twice. His insides were vibrating from the oil and water emotions inside him. He longed for Hinata; he was scared of what Hinata would see in the painting. His fingers itched with want to hold Hinata; his feet begged him to run in the other direction, proof that his mother’s words still wrapped him in chains. </p>
<p><em> Help me make a wish, Kageyama </em>, and he had wished, not with his words, but with every broad and delicate stroke he had created during his fifteenth summer. He had painted an amalgamation of his wishes for the past, the present, and the future. More than anything, he had desired to be able to grab hold of the hand that Hinata had offered him that night (and every moment since). Tobio hadn’t been ready then, and he wondered if he ever would be ready.</p>
<p>As the quarter hour struck, Tobio caught a flash of orange barely peeking out above the crowd. He watched as Hinata fought the nauseating press of bodies, his train pass, and his suitcase. Tobio allowed himself to watch Hinata in the few precious moments before he would be spotted. Hinata’s mouth was in a tight line, the only clue to his distress. Tobio had always wondered how Hinata could get on stage and be watched by so many eyes but be nearly paralyzed once he was a part of the crowd. Maybe he would feel comfortable asking him, someday. </p>
<p>Stepping away from the pillar, Tobio saw the moment Hinata found him. He heard the jubilant noise that flew from Hinata’s mouth and up into the ceiling. Hinata’s hand left his suitcase for a step. Laughing, Hinata resecured his grip and ran straight to Tobio, who couldn’t lift his arms fast enough. The suitcase continued to roll, even when Hinata latched himself onto Tobio. It clattered to the floor with no sense of rhythm, abandoned in favor of the tightest embrace Hinata could manage. </p>
<p>All of Tobio’s worries left him for ten blissful seconds as his arms finally obeyed him and wrapped around Hinata, hoisting him higher, holding him tighter. </p>
<p>The hood of Hinata’s yellow jacket had come up with his jump into Tobio’s arms. Hidden by the fabric, Hinata pressed a kiss into the sharp line of Tobio’s jaw. After disentangling himself from Tobio’s embrace, Hinata returned to earth with a smile that could keep Osaka’s power grid going forever. </p>
<p>Hinata spoke first, “hey.”</p>
<p>“Your train was on time,” Tobio said; it was the first thing that popped into his mind, besides his desire to kiss Hinata until the weight of travel left his body.</p>
<p>With a huff, Hinata picked his suitcase off the ground, wrestling with the wheels and handle. “‘Your train was on time,’” he repeated Tobio’s words back to him, “Newsflash, Dummyama, the bullet train is always on time.”</p>
<p>Together, they retraced Tobio’s steps back to the subway. When they walked into the empty car, they sat down side by side. As the quiet was replaced with a cacophony of the noises of daily life, Hinata rested his head against Tobio’s arm. The point of contact brought back the oil and water feeling in his gut. The need to wrap his arm around Hinata and pull him ever closer set every nerve-ending aflame, but the deeper, older need to hide that part of himself away kept him still. </p>
<p>“Don’t fall asleep on me,” he warned instead, “I’m not carrying you anywhere.”</p>
<p>A puff of laughter warmed Tobio through his jacket, “yeah, I’ll be good. We already know you can’t carry me.”</p>
<p>Gearing up to argue his strength, Hinata added, “pulling out your back means you can’t do it, dummy.”</p>
<p>“You’re the dumbass for getting drunk off three and a half drinks,” Tobio retorted as the announcement for Osaka Station spoke over him.</p>
<p>Lifting his head, Hinata scrunched up his face in thought. “Wasn’t it four and a half?” he asked. Refusing to continue the conversation, Tobio stood up to carefully retrieve Hinata’s small suitcase from the rack above their head. He was proud that his arms didn’t even wobble under the deceptive weight of it. </p>
<p>On the escalator, Hinata stood on the left side, effectively blocking the flow of late afternoon traffic. With a sharp tug, he pulled Hinata to the right, allowing the annoyed sea behind him to flow with ease. </p>
<p>He heard Hinata mumble, “weird ass city,” but Tobio loved them both for their vibrancy. </p>
<p>When they shoved Hinata’s suitcase into a locker, they fought over who got to keep the receipt with the barcode. With a pointed flourish, Tobio tucked the receipt into the inside pocket of his jacket. He felt the corners of his mouth pull up when Hinata started pouting. It was a game they had repeated many times over, a language of love only they understood. </p>
<p>The closer they came to the gallery, the less worried Tobio felt. Hinata was walking beside him, bright and warm and loud enough to chase every thought away. He was giving some kind of titillating update about Atsumu, but Tobio was only half-listening. Instead, he focused on the cadence of Hinata’s voice and tried to imagine what color it would look like if he could paint the sound. </p>
<p>They stopped in front of the gallery for a moment before Tobio opened the door. In the pause, Hinata wrapped his hand around one of Tobio’s to give it a supportive squeeze. Understanding Tobio’s preferences, he quickly released his hold. As Tobio pulled the door open for Hinata, he pictured them walking inside hand in hand. Maybe someday. </p>
<p>At the change in temperature, Hinata unbuttoned his sunflower yellow jacket to reveal a baby blue knit sweater beneath it. It made his orange waves that much brighter in the warm lighting of the gallery’s lobby. Tobio kept his own jacket on; he felt like he needed the added armor. </p>
<p>“Alright, Yamayama, take me to my painting!” Hinata cheered, his grin etching deeper into his face. </p>
<p>“It’s not your painting. Do I have to say that everyday?”</p>
<p>“Only until you cave and give it to me,” Hinata replied, his habit of drumming against his thighs surfacing. The beat grew more erratic the further they walked into the gallery. The small, faux walls made the large room into a maze that Tobio navigated them through with ease. </p>
<p>As they rounded the final corner, Tobio said, “I keep telling you it’s not going to happen because-”</p>
<p>Hinata sucked in a gasp as the massive painting came into view. It was a landscape about a meter and a half in width and a meter in height. </p>
<p>“-you can’t fit it on the train,” he finished his sentence. </p>
<p>Beside him, Hinata stilled, barely breathing. His hand came up to his left collarbone and tapped, tapped, tapped. He looked deep in thought, not even noticing that his old, nervous habit had resurfaced. Tobio had never understood where the habit had come from or what kind of self-soothing it provided Hinata, but in the quiet gallery, the taps said, <em> I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.  </em></p>
<p>Tobio turned his attention to the painting. From the left side, from foreground to background, the ocean glittered in the fading sun. The sky traveled from dark, deep blues to purples and pinks. As the scenery of the painting curved, so did the perspective, revealing Hinata in the tank top and shorts he had worn to the beach. He was posed as if he was about to step off the railing of the mountain’s summit. The profile of his face was titled up to watch the sky as he prepared to take flight with the massive black wings sprouting from his back. The waning sunlight created a crown over his head; his orange hair melted into the sunset behind him. </p>
<p>On his artist bio placard, short and straight to the point as always, read his name and the title of the painting:</p>
<p>
  <em> All That You Love (Sunlight) </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know,” Hinata said, sounding watery. Tobio turned his gaze back to him. Hinata sniffed once and continued, “My song is from that day, too.” </p>
<p>Feeling brave, Tobio looped his arm through Hinata’s. He could do that, today. </p>
<p>“I think it means you love me,” Hinata added. </p>
<p>Tobio’s face flushed, “I think it means you love me, too.”</p>
<p>Laughing and wiping his eyes, Hinata told him, “well, glad we cleared that up. Only took two and a half months.”</p>
<p>“We’ve been dating for two and a half months. I think we cleared that up a while ago,” Tobio countered. He reached his free hand over to ruffle Hinata’s hair. </p>
<p>They stood in front of the painting for a long while, quiet. When Hinata began to hum and fidget, Tobio led them back out to the street in search of dinner. </p>
<p>As they walked, Hinata said, “how much posing do I have to do to earn that one?”</p>
<p>Tobio flicked Hinata’s ear where it peeked out from under his hair.</p>
<p>“Ow! Meanieyama!”</p>
<p>“I don’t think you could ever pose enough to get the rights to that monster.”</p>
<p>Hinata’s mouth turned up and turned sharp, something devilish, “sounds like you’re trying to say you’ll need a lifetime.” </p>
<p>Processing Hinata’s words, Tobio’s mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out. Hinata laughed at his distress and danced away, his hair swaying in the October wind like embers in the firelight.</p>
<p>The wind heralded autumn and promised a cold winter, but for now, Tobio knew that no matter where Hinata went, summer was sure to follow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----------------------------------------------------</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>07/26/2020</p>
<p>
  <em> You were a titan touching down on my lonely mountain, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And the gifts you gave me opened doors into new worlds. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And in this lowly plane,  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> We climbed through windows long thought closed </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> To the broken ones. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> You were a foal, surprised every time you could stand </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> On your own legs, your arms outstretched, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Balancing for the next step, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And the next, and the next, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> And the next one after that. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I want to weave into the fabric of eternity that you are mine, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Even as the branches of this tree diverge. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> From this distant perspective, I reach the truth: </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> I have been yours since the day </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> You breathed this flame into my pleading lungs,</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> And I have pursued this burning, this cleansing, this remaking. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Let me breath it back into you everyday, every hour, every moment. </em>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>2020</p>
<p>
  <em> You stand at the top of the world, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Arms wide with hard won trust. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The rays of the sun embrace  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> You in front of the abyss. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> As the known world begins to fade, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Brought low before the strength </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Of our star, one thought </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Emerges: </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> All that you love is sunlight </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The End</p>
<p>
  <br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some closing Meta:<br/>-The two poems of mine above are what inspired the summit scene in chapter 9, Hinata's song, and Kageyama's painting.<br/>-The Alchemist is a real bar in Kobe (though the name has been fictionalized). It does have a jacuzzi. If you find yourself in Kobe and want to go to it, dm me on twitter and I'll tell you exactly where to find it.<br/>-The manga MARS was a big inspiration for artist!Kageyama and also takes place in Kansai<br/>-If I can figure out a good overarching plot, I have plans for a sequel focusing on Fox Glove and SakuAtsu</p>
<p>Thank you so much for reaching the end of this fic. This has been my light for the past six months, and if the spirit moves you, any comments are treasured and tucked away into my heart.</p>
<p>You can find me on twitter as <a href="https://twitter.com/pinchserve12">pinchserve12</a> or on Tumblr at <a href="https://pinchserveprince.tumblr.com">pinchserveprince</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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